


The Littlest Winchester In San Francisco

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Series: The Littlest Winchester [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angel Doctor, Babies, Baby Angels, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel Loves Dean, Dean Loves Castiel, Disability, Disabled Angel, Disabled Character, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Castiel, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, F/M, Fledglings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gadreel Lives, Grace Bonds, Grace Sharing, Interspecies Relationship(s), Love, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Nephilim, Newborn Children, POV Dean Winchester, Parent Castiel, Parent Dean Winchester, Parents Castiel & Dean Winchester, Physical Disability, Romance, Sam Is a Good Friend, Sam in Love, Same-Sex Marriage, San Francisco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2745689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking a year off from hunting to care for a pregnant angel wasn't exactly part of Dean's life plan. Although Castiel knew angels could reproduce, he never expected it to happen while he occupied a male vessel. But it happened. A tiny half-angel, half-human baby girl was born under the supervision of an angel doctor in San Francisco and the new fathers called her Erica Millie after Dean's father's middle name and his equally tiny grandmother. The unexpected life Dean and Castiel built together with their new baby includes Sam and his new girlfriend, Kelly, who is a descendant of the Men of Letters as well. Dean wonders if any of them have any idea what they're in for with a brand new baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jessi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessi/gifts).



Ten fingers. Ten toes. A pair of sparkling blue eyes still trying to open and examine the world. One halo, a set of wings, and one-half grace fusing every day with one-half soul. At least, that was what Erica's angel doctor, her angel nurses, and Castiel each told Dean since he couldn't see those things about her. Stretched out on the changing table, Erica didn't look any different from newborn human babies with the exception of the piercing silver glow in her pupils when she cried. Her inner light reflected metallic silver, whereas Castiel's inner light was a blinding bright blue because he was a full-fledged member of his species. It took Dean some time to get everything straight in his mind, but in the end, it didn't really matter. She was his baby girl, right down to the shape of his chin miniaturized on her sweet face.

"Chubby Cheeks, did you know you're a week old today?" he told the baby as he peeled off her dirty diaper. "What do you think about that? You got a college picked out yet? Better get on it before Uncle Sammy puts you in some baby Stanford program." His head tossed back and he whistled loudly. "Woo, baby, what've you been eating? Yuck!"

Dean rolled up the dirty diaper into a tight ball and threw it in the garbage can next to the changing table. It was only the fourth morning at home in their little San Francisco apartment. Before that, the nurses at Dr. Galvan's clinic had been taking care of Erica and Castiel almost exclusively for Dean. So when they came home four days before, he threw himself into learning the art of fatherhood. He'd had some experience before, though quite limited. Those kids weren't his flesh and blood and somehow that made the instincts completely different.

He selected a diaper with pastel flowers from the plastic pack. Erica reminded him of little pink tea roses, sweet smelling (well, not with a dirty diaper) and delicate petals. It inspired him to buy things for her nursery with tea roses in mind or soft colors. Her skin's soft pink undertone looked quite a bit like Castiel when his emotions flushed his face. Truthfully, Dean was enamored with that tiny little flowering life. He really didn't care who knew it either.

Moving with the slowness of a person still recovering from major abdominal surgery, Castiel shuffled into the baby's room. He held onto furniture as he walked.

"Dean, I just got off the phone with Jody," he announced, a bit agitated.

"Yeah?" As he spoke, Dean chose a fleece onesie from the chest of drawers, thinking how cold San Francisco was in November. "What's she up to? Still taking care of that little girl?"

"Yes, and they want to visit for Thanksgiving to meet our infant. I'm uncertain if it's wise to bring people close to her when she's this small and her immune system isn't fully formed. Her grace hasn't fully bonded with her soul either. This is a delicate time in Erica's life."

"I know, Cas, but babies survived millions of years with nosy family wanting a peek," Dean countered. "You can't worry all the time about the stuff that can go wrong or you'll forget to live life."

Castiel regarded him through a squint and a cocked face. "I never thought you'd be so calm about having our offspring. My mind is constantly filled with every germ and every bacteria invading this building. It's one thing to have an angel offspring but one with the mortality risks of a human added in too--it's overwhelming the worry I experience. This is not a welcome emotion."

"You thought you'd be the one talking me off the ledge, huh?" Dean found that mildly amusing.

"Yes," replied Castiel in all seriousness.

He buttoned the fleece onesie and wrapped Erica in a swaddling blanket. Thanks to YouTube, he was a professional baby burrito wrapper in no time. He dropped a kiss on Erica's forehead and then fed her into Castiel's arms.

"You're a dad now. So am I. This is scary as hell but we're doing great, I think."

It took a minute for the ideas to sink into Castiel's mind but he nodded slowly as he swayed with the baby in his arms. "Yes. Yes, we're doing fine. You're correct."

"You know it," said Dean through an ego-laced grin. "Now, c'mon and sit down before you fall down. You had your gut sliced open only a week ago. Angel or not, the doc said you gotta take it easy for a while. You can feed the baby. I'll go get the bottle warmed up."

"Yes, all right. Sam wanted to talk with you anyway," Castiel said, though his attention remained on the little one tucked into his elbow as he sank into the glider.

Dean left them in the baby's room and headed for the kitchen. They lived in an apartment in a secured building along with Sam and his girlfriend, Kelly, who shared the small bedroom. Though a young relationship, Sam chose a good match for himself in a woman who was, like him, a legacy in the Men of Letters. Sharing the intimate details of his life with another person required a certain level of understanding and discretion when it came to Castiel and their lives as hunters.

"Aren't you tired of that thing yet?" Dean asked, seeing his brother planted on the couch playing a football video game.

"Good for hand and eye coordination," he chortled. Still, he pressed paused and joined Dean in the kitchen. "Hey, so get this."

"Oh hell. You found a job." As he mixed powdered baby formula and water into a baby bottle, he eyed his younger brother.

Sam pursed his lips, irritated at both being interrupted and at being so easily read. "Yeah, there is a job. Couple hundred miles south down the coast are reports of a ghost ship. People see it and then their own sailboats and stuff start malfunctioning and sinking right in the harbor or just outside of its borders. Four victims this month alone."

"Uh-huh."

Arms folded, Dean watched the baby bottle spin as the microwave heated Erica's breakfast. He knew the routine. One of them found a job and they both hopped in the Impala and sped off to save the day. Erica's tiny week-old voice began fussing hungrily from the bedroom almost on cue, reminding him of his new responsibilities. There was a job out there but there was a job at home too. He glanced at his brother as the microwave beeped, reading his face for any signs of what he might have thought about their new roles. Except Dean didn't really know what his exact role was in that moment. His thoughts flashed on his mother quite unexpectedly and jolted his gut with sudden awareness of what she was trying to accomplish all along by keeping her boys out of that life.

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna head down there in the morning," Sam finally said as if he expected Dean to fight him on it.

Instead, Dean simply said, "Shouldn't work a job alone, man."

"I'm not." The younger Winchester picked at the edge of the counter, avoiding eye contact.

"Oh really?" Then it occurred to Dean just who he might have meant. Worry deepened the lines between his eyes. "Sammy, she's never been on a hunt. You're gonna be distracted holding her hand through the whole job."

"Kelly's a Woman of Letters," argued Sam.

"Yeah," Dean argued back, both rather monotone in the newness of that problem, "and Men and Women of Letters thought hunters were savages. Her family probably never taught her the first thing about it."

"She has to learn if she's gonna stay part of this family." The squareness in Sam's shoulders suggested he wasn't backing down on it. "Ghost cases are easy. I'll take her down there, she'll learn to salt and burn, and we'll be back before Jody gets here for Thanksgiving. You'll never miss us."

"You knew I wasn't gonna go work with you, huh?" Dean said. He didn't quite know if he was annoyed or relieved that Sam predicted what he'd do.

He grinned. Not the sort of expression an arrogant man wore when he knew he was right, but the grin of a younger brother looking up to his older one. "You wouldn't leave Erica when she's this little and you sure as hell wouldn't leave Cas when he's still having a hard time walking from one end of the apartment to another. For all the bull you spout, you really are just a family man deep down in there. It's fine, Dean. When Erica gets bigger, you'll want to hunt again, I bet."

"It's not that I don't wanna gank some douchebag monster," replied Dean with an uncertain shrug.

"I know," Sam said with a nod. "You'd relax more if Cas was stronger though. Why can't he just heal himself? He doesn't have to go through all this surgery recovery stuff."

"Actually, he does," Dean said through a heavy sigh. "He can't use his mojo as long as Chubby Cheeks is feeding from it."

The oddity of that idea wrinkled Sam's nose. "What, like breast feeding?"

"No!" Laughing, Dean rolled his eyes. "It's a bonding thing, I guess. I mean, he said she needs nourishment from mature grace but I think when angels reproduce, they keep stronger bonds by sharing grace with their fledglings. He's really private about it. Like, I've only seen him do it twice. He slices his fingertip and she sort of drinks the grace but it's not really gas or liquid. I don't ask too many questions. My domain is more about her human half and making sure she eats enough of this formula stuff."

A thousand curious questions lit up Sam's eyes but he was the polite sort that never overstepped his bounds. He nodded at least. "Well, she's your kid so she's gonna eat like a horse."

"She does," Dean chuckled.

"You guys gonna be okay while Kelly and me are gone?"

"Sure," he boasted, though he wasn't so certain.


	2. Chapter 2

With Sam gone on the hunt with his new partner, apparently, Dean and Castiel found themselves managing their lives without help.

At first Dean didn't really notice the absence but a few days into it showed him just how many hands he lacked. Taking a shower without someone to watch the baby on the morning of her doctor visit proved difficult. Castiel struggled with pain that morning but he tried to do his part with their little daughter. In the end, Dean put Erica in her car seat on the bathroom floor while he showered to let Castiel rest a little longer.

Things went smoother after that, thankfully. Dean reminded himself that he was a father of a baby barely over a week old and her other father was still recovering from the Caesarean section. Of course there would be a period of adjustment.

When Dean stepped out of the shower, he found the car seat and the baby gone. He wrapped a towel around his waist and darted from room to room, soon locating Castiel hovering over a tiny naked baby wriggling on her changing table. Dean paused before he was seen and observed an angel interacting with his fledgling offspring. As Castiel fed her chubby limbs into an ivory fleece onesie with pink piping around the collar, wrists, and feet, he murmured to her. Indiscernible words took shape in Dean's ears, making him realize that Castiel spoke to her in Enochian. It reminded him that the child was indeed half angel and needed educating in that part of herself. Castiel wasted no time, it seemed, as he talked to her sweetly in their native language.

"You okay?" Dean asked eventually.

Castiel peered over his shoulder and smiled at him. "Yes, we're just putting on some clothes and a clean diaper."

"It's not hurting you, is it?"

"I have to get back to living sometime. You need help." Castiel turned back to the changing table and wiggled his fingers over Erica's tummy. "Do you think this will be warm enough for the cold out there? This city never seems to get warm."

"Fleece is plenty warm," replied Dean. The scene oddly took him off guard with sentimental emotion flooding his chest. "Put on her coat. The one with the ears on the hood. I gotta throw on some clothes of my own but I'll be right back."

Getting to the clinic proved once again just how much Dean had come to rely on Sam and Kelly in the week since Erica was born. Sam was always better at navigating San Francisco then he was, demonstrated by how frustrated he became in searching for parking around Market Street. For an angel posing as a physician, the need to remain hidden it didn't seem as important as the need for a centralized, marketable location downtown. He hated downtown when it came to driving his little baby girl. Dean finally gave up and paid the $10 to park in the garage attached to the clinic building. He didn't know why Dr. Galvan called it a clinic since the complex was as big as a midrange hospital. No matter. At least they arrived without having to carry Erica's car seat through the cold San Francisco air outside.

"I can't carry the car seat," admitted Castiel in a secretive tone as if he was ashamed of the fact.

Concerned, Dean studied his features. "You okay?"

"Yes, Dean. Don't worry." Still, his brows furrowed together and he handed off the car seat so he could clutch his middle as he walked through the parking garage. "I can't tolerate the weight of it against my abdomen just yet. It's nothing to be concerned about. Don't look at me like that. I'm not an invalid. I merely foraged ahead and had a child while occupying the vessel of a human gender unequipped to bear it." He flashed a sheepish grin over at Dean, making light of his difficult recovery.

"Well," replied Dean with a skeptical glance at his stomach, "just make sure the doctor knows how much pain you're having, okay? Don't be ... y'know ... you."

Castiel gave a wry grin. "And how am I?"

An amused light crept over Dean's face as they reached the elevator to sweep them up from the parking garage. "If you were any more stubborn, you'd be me."

"Lucky for us, we had a fledgling to combine our unnatural talents for stubbornness then."

They laughed in the elevator, a low and careful sound, the way new parents did when they still weren't sure when life hit a good stride. Dean uncovered the baby in the elevator and stuffed the pink knitted blanket into the diaper bag. His knuckles encountered a plastic wrapper of baby wipes rather than the blades and guns stowed away in duffle bags before Erica arrived. Life couldn't have been any more different if he woke up in a woman's body without warning. Erica cooed and her hands, covered by the fuzzy winter coat made to look like a teddy bear, stretched over her head. She yawned and exposed a tiny rosebud of a mouth. Dean paused, considering how intensely he wanted that little girl so much more than all the guns and road trips in the world. Letting himself think too hard on his bond with the baby threatened to suck the breath out of his body, so he zipped up the diaper bag and rose to his feet again with the car seat hung over his forearm.

They hadn't visited Dr. Galvan's clinic in daylight hours before, except the one introductory tour before Castiel underwent the cesarean section. Seeing other people in the waiting room gave Dean pause for a moment. Several women read magazines over various sized protruding, expectant bellies. Anxious men sat near them. Sometimes it appeared that women paired off, and then, as Dean approached the check-in window, he noticed a few male couples with newborns too. He hadn't fully taken measure of his own insecurity about openly being with a man until he saw those male couples--or the female ones too for that matter--yet not being the only ones put him at ease. He turned to the nurse seated at the window as Castiel rustled around behind him with the baby, taking her to a waiting chair.

"Good morning. How can I help you?" a smiling nurse asked.

"Hi. Uh, nine o'clock newborn wellness appointment for Erica Winchester with Dr. Galvan."

The nurse consulted her computer and nodded. "Yes, I see her here. I'll check you in. Just have a seat and a nurse will call you when they're ready."

"Thanks."

It was weird, Dean decided, as he wound his way around rows of waiting chairs until he found Castiel tugging Erica's little arms out of her coat. He flopped down in a chair next to the one holding the car seat and looked around the room. They sat without conversing for a time as Castiel plucked the baby out of the car seat and leaned back in the chair with her cuddled to his chest. Blue eyes sharpened across the room near one corner as he did so.

"Someone you know?" Dean asked discreetly behind his fist. He noticed the pregnant woman making an unusual effort not to look at them.

"I am not the only one from home in this room," he said, choosing cryptic words.

"Her?" Dean indicated the woman who certainly did not read the magazine in her hands.

Castiel nodded. "That's Sophia."

"Should we be worried?" They had, after all, produced a child mixed with human blood and angelic grace, which was against one of Heaven's most strict laws.

"I don't think so," he answered carefully. "She was loyal to my garrison a long time ago. I lost track of her during the apocalypse but I don't imagine she would fall into disreputable hands. She was a good soldier and, it appears, quite the family woman now. I'm not surprised. Her grace contains an unusual amount of nurturing capability that often put her at odds with orders to kill."

"Dad there must be from your hometown too then, unless her bun in the oven was put there by a guy from my hometown." A peculiar need to bond with another family who had a child like theirs came over Dean even though logic told him they would never meet another family with a nephilim.

"I don't know the father," Castiel said, squinting at the man.

The woman identified as Sophia looked up from her magazine and turned the page, her eyes meeting Castiel's face. As quickly as she looked at him, she dropped her gaze again and pretended to be interested in the yummy mummy fashion article.

"She can hear us, can't she?" Dean observed.

"Of course." Castiel arched a brow at him. "She's a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent just as I am. We could listen to the harbor seals from here if we chose."

"All right, all right. Show off."

"She won't speak to us here in front of so many people from your hometown, so to speak, but if we were to stop at the Starbucks around the corner on the way home, one never knows who we might run into there." He spoke to Dean, of course, but his eyes shifted across the room just as Sophia glanced up from her magazine again.

Attention shifted to Erica soon enough as a nurse called them into an examination room much like the one they visited when the baby was born. Dean nearly forgot about the angel in the waiting room. Being a father made him that way, he guessed, and it seemed he would soon forget about a lot of things in favor of his child.

The nurse instructed Dean to undress Erica and place her on a table with raised edges much like the changing table in her nursery at home. While he did so, the nurse made Castiel sit down and she took his vitals. It was strange for Dean to see someone be concerned about and angel's blood pressure and heart rate, but he reminded himself that the vessel had been through an enormous strain in the last year. She asked him to lift his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans so she could examine his incision site. His body didn't resemble the one who fought through the apocalypse. Firmness and hard masculine edges now looked soft and tender with the extra weight he'd gained to carry the baby. Dean would never say so but Castiel still looked somewhat pregnant, not that he expected the angel to bounce back a mere eight days after Erica's birth.

"How are you feeling today?" asked the nurse.

"I'm fine," Castiel said in his typical monotone.

"Cas...." Dean chided, his back turned as he wriggled Erica free of her clothes down to her flowered diaper. He felt Castiel's glare through the back of his skull.

"I'm still having pain, especially when I try to carry anything around my abdominal region," he admitted.

"That's fairly normal," said the nurse. "Are you experiencing any bleeding? Vomiting? Anything unusual like that?"

"No," he said.

"Okay. I don't see any signs of infection in your incision area. Everything looks good so far. I know recovering from this isn't a walk in the park, not that I've ever been through it, but I can assure you that what you're feeling is quite normal. Just take it easy and let your vessel heal for a while. I know that goes against your instincts but it's important."

"Not being able to heal myself goes against my instincts more than anything," he said in a rare candid moment.

"I can imagine," she said sympathetically. "I'm not an angel, as you know, but I have been working with your kind for almost fifteen years. I understand. As long as you are feeding your grace to little Erica here, I'm afraid you're a bit grounded. It's going to make her so much more stronger though. You're doing a wonderful thing for your fledgling, much the way a human woman does when she nurses a newborn baby. The act is almost sacred to humans."

"Grace sharing is sacred to angels." Even Castiel's tone shifted to something more reverent.

Before Dean had a chance to eavesdrop on more angel traditions, someone knocked on the exam room door and Dr. Galvan swept in with a chart. She smiled, which struck Dean as strange, since she was not given to human social inclinations as much. Perhaps she had a tender spot for newborn angel babies.

"Ah, Castiel. Dean. Good morning to you both." She always wore long skirts in dark colors that moved with a floating quality as she walked. Sam had identified her as Clara Barton who had founded the Red Cross after the American Civil War. Crouching before Castiel, she went to work right away. "You're feeling well, yes? No bleeding? No signs of infection?"

Again, he recounted the stages of his recovery for her the way he had for the nurse. He was truly patient about it even though Dean worried seeing him in that kind of pain regularly. He stood quietly in front of the examination table containing his child to keep her from rolling off of it but he watched the doctor examine Castiel quite closely.

A round of questions came and went passing between Castiel and Dr. Galvan until she was satisfied with the progression of his recovery. It seemed everything was in order despite Dean's concerns and Castiel's discomfort. They just had to be patient, it seemed, and let his body recover the natural way.

Dr. Galvan rose to her feet then and peered at little Erica wriggling in her flowered diaper. She pulled the stethoscope from around her neck to her ears and listened to the baby's breathing and heartbeat. The nurse scribbled notes into the baby's chart after setting aside Castiel's chart. Together the doctor and the nurse moved seamlessly without much discussion between them. Dean wondered how many babies she had delivered over the centuries, both human and angel. It must have lost its charm over the years, or perhaps each newborn took on a clinical air for the doctor, allowing her to work without pesky emotions getting in the way.

"How is her appetite?"

"Seems like she's eating all the time," Dean replied. "We take turns getting up at night."

Dr. Galvan nodded. "How is she sleeping?"

Dean shrugged. "Eh...."

"I would say at night it's no more than four hours at a time. Sometimes five. I'm still sleeping, I suppose, because my vessel is recovering. I'm looking forward to no longer needing that rest anymore." A subtle sense of guilt punctuated Castiel's words as if he considered the need for rest a weakness that kept him from caring for his fledgling. "She gets hungry at night more than during the day. I feel like I'm feeding her a lot more when it's dark."

"Sometimes babies develop nocturnal cycles. You can turn it around in time. Her weight is good. Let's just have a look at--" Dr. Galvan didn't finish her sentence. Her mind visibly shifted as she lifted Erica upright my hands under her arms and studied the contours of her back. "Nurse, please find me a goniometer."

Nodding, she scuttled out of the room. Tiny hairs prickled along the back of Dean's neck the exact way they did back in his hunting days when he sensed danger. He stiffened, rising up from casually leaning against the wall, and drew nearer to his baby. Castiel stood as well. They exchanged questioning looks but said nothing as Dr. Galvan manipulated something around Erica's back. Dean couldn't perceive what gave her cause for alarm but he tracked Castiel's eyes and knew it was something of her angelic body. The only thing Dean knew of an angel around the back was a set of wings. He leaned over the baby protectively but Dr. Galvan shooed him back again.

"What's wrong?" Dean demanded.

"I suspect a malformation. Just a moment. Let me examine the child."

It grated Dean's nerves. "This isn't just a child. This is my child!"

"Dean...."

A familiar, strong hand on his shoulder kept him from spiraling into his overprotective nature. Castiel drew in his eye contact to make him refocus but it did little to soothe him, seeing a deeply buried sense of fear in the calm sea of blue. Castiel pulled him back by the elbow and they gave the angel doctor room to look over their child. The word malformation pierced Dean's skull over and over again like a nail gun blasting his brain. They watched in silence, searching for any sign in the doctor of what might be wrong but she appeared to move body parts back and forth that Dean couldn't see. It looked to him like she flexed and bent Erica's left wing, though invisible to him, and the action elicited no reaction from the baby. She gummed down her own fist as if nothing was wrong in the slightest.

The nurse burst into the room again carrying a plastic tool that looked like a ruler bent in half. He knew that tool from physical therapy whenever he or Sam got hurt too badly to fix in the bunker or on the road. Pieces of the puzzle began to come together in his mind. Something appeared malformed with Erica's wings--or the doctor thought so. For the millionth time that day, Dean wished he had his brother's logic and calm when things overwhelmed him. Then silently, Castiel slipped his fingers through Dean's and they squeezed each other's palms as they watched and waited. It occurred to Dean in that moment, he didn't need Sam as much as he thought. He could depend on Castiel to hold him up, to be calm and logical, to remind him of his higher purpose. There was something sacred in the bond created by having a child together but leaning on each other when their child suffered made that bond truly holy. His eyes slid over to Castiel's profile, grateful for him.

Erica squealed, lightly at first, and then it turned sharp. It brought both fathers forward on instinct until four faces surrounded the infant's examination table. Letting go of Castiel's hand, Dean leaned over with his elbows planted on the thin table padding and calmly stroked his daughter's chubby leg. The nurse held her in a sitting position while Dr. Galvan appeared to measure nothing at all with the bent ruler. Dean understood. He had no room for an internal crisis when his baby needed support, so he spoke sweetly to her, caressed her baby skin, and kept her calm.

"All right, nurse, you can lie her down and put on her clothes," said Dr. Galvan after an unnerving period of silence.

"So what's going on?" Dean pressed.

"It seems Erica's right wing is malformed. It's in the bones, not the soft tissues," the angel doctor explained, finally looking both of them in the eyes.

"The upper joint," Castiel guessed quietly.

"Indeed, yes."

"Hold on, hold on." A stab of pain pierced straight through the stress portion of Dean's brain and he closed his eyes as he rubbed his forehead. "You said when she was born that she was fine. You said she was healthy."

"She is healthy, Mr. Winchester," insisted the doctor evenly, "but all fledglings naturally cocoon themselves within their wings during gestation. It takes time for their wings to open and stretch as they should, which is why I didn't initially see the malformation. Her left wing can be coaxed open quite easily but the right wing is stiff with resistance if it's opened beyond this point." She held her arm out to her side, pointing to eight o'clock. "I'm going to order films but I'm fairly certain the malformation is around the alula."

A ragged sigh left Dean's chest. "Hold on, you lost me again. Explain it like I'm five."

Patiently, Dr. Galvan found a piece of paper and drew a crude rendering of a winged infant. The wings arched to points rising higher than her head and stretched down to lengthy feathers touching her heels. He'd tried to picture what Castiel's wings looked like many times but it didn't compare to seeing it sketched out by an actual angel.

She circled the highest point. "This is called the alula. Angels have a main bone emerging from the shoulderblade here that rises to this joint and carries along the falling half here. The joint is what allows for the swooping motion up in this region. It's not unlike comparison to your elbows if you were to attempt flight with your arms, not that you could. I suspect this joint is malformed in your daughter's right wing. It remains perpetually folded into the semi-cocooned position and cannot be opened, even by an outside force. In fact, attempting to stretch open the joint appears to cause her some discomfort if I conduct range of motion exercises."

Nodding, Dean quietly took in the crude sketch and the description of the problem. He felt Castiel slide by behind him to reach the little baby, who had been dressed again by the nurse. The angel cuddled her to his chest and kissed her head with murmurings of a private and Enochian nature.

Dean's dry tongue flicked over his lips and he swallowed. "Uh ... so ... does this mean ... does this mean my kid's handicapped?"

"Handicapped isn't a nice word, Dean," corrected Castiel gently.

He waved it off and waited for Dr. Galvan to give it to him straight.

"We cannot say anything for certain at this stage, mind you, but I don't foresee Erica learning to fly like other angels when she grows up. But--" seeing Dean's fearful reaction made her hold up her hands to placate him, "--but we don't know the whole story yet. We need films of her wing, which I will arrange for your next appointment. I'll try to squeeze you in next week so you don't have to wait too long. Once we see what we're dealing with inside, we'll consider how best to proceed. I'll do my research on possible other cases where angel wings were congenitally malformed as well."

"Thank you," said Castiel. "We appreciate your dedication."

"You can x-ray wings?" Dean asked almost on top of him.

"No, it's an altered MRI process. I developed it myself. Not to worry. I have access to the hospital but I'm afraid we'll have to do this after hours. Prying eyes and such."

"Yeah." Turning to the baby growing drowsy on Castiel's chest, Dean rubbed her tiny back as if he feared hurting her. With a sigh, he kissed her head and began sliding her into her fuzzy teddy bear winter coat. "Don't worry, sugarplum. Daddy's gonna figure this out for you."

"I assure you, Erica is not suffering. She's quite healthy and appears rather content aside from her alula joint. So don't worry about treating her any different. You're both doing a fine job." Her voice directed toward Castiel. "My only caution, Castiel, is to be careful of situations that might cause her wing to overextend. Since it resists proper movement, I'm afraid forcing it to bend would cause her injury."

"I understand," Castiel agreed soberly.

"What do we do if she gets hurt?" asked Dean as he helped Castiel strap the baby into the car seat.

Dr. Galvan fished through her skirt pocket and produced a business card. On the back, she scribbled out another phone number. "This goes to my private phone. If Erica is injured, call me right away. I can come to you in mere seconds, of course."

"Thanks." Maybe that doctor did care about his daughter. Dean stowed the card in the diaper bag and nodded more thoughtfully after a moment. "Thank you."

She sandwiched one of his hands between both of hers. "If there's a way to help your daughter fly, I will find it."

The roller coaster left Dean dazed. He went from plummeted hopelessness to considering that maybe his child's condition was temporary. He had a thousand questions--namely why the angels couldn't just lay hands on Erica's wing and heal her with their mojo--but he decided he needed time to digest the unexpected developments. If healing the baby was a possibility, he felt certain that Castiel would have already done it without hesitation. Even the doctor seemed truly concerned about finding a solution. Dean had to reassure himself that they could be trusted with his child's care no matter how his obsessive sense of family protection fought and kicked to control him.

An hour later, and two wrong turns, Dean and Castiel strolled into Starbucks with baby Erica fussing in the car seat slung over the hunter's arm. He tugged his green wool scarf looser around his neck with his free hand as Castiel mixed up a baby bottle while he walked. Only a week of parenthood taught both of them a great deal about multitasking and doing things one-handed.

"I'll find a table," Dean said as he moved toward the least crowded corner of the coffee shop.

Castiel took his place in line, already knowing what both of them routinely ordered. An empty table presented itself in a corner between two windows and Dean placed the car seat on it. Sitting so he could see Castiel in line also showed him just how many sideways glances came his way. Erica's intermittent fussing grew as did her appetite. If Castiel didn't find a microwave, they'd have to leave because Dean refused to be one of those parents carting a screaming child everywhere. She couldn't help being hungry.

"Shh, sugarplum," he soothed as he rocked the car seat. "Grub's on the way."

Movement at the store entrance caught his eye. In waddled the same pregnant angel from the hospital. A poofy purple coat and a knitted hat with a yarn ball on top gave her almost a childlike quality until the lines around her mouth and her pregnant shape betrayed her age. Or at least the age of her vessel. She butted ahead in line and tapped Castiel's shoulder, which opened his face into a warm smile and his arms into a warm hug. Dean observed curiously, unable to hear them as they chatted in line. The friendliness between them suggested Castiel trusted her enough to allow her close to his fledgling but Dean never completely relaxed. Not so long as a human and an angel having a child together remained one of Heaven's greatest offenses.

It appeared, much to his relief, that the barista allowed the baby bottle to be microwaved. Castiel bought coffee for the three of them, which they both carried back to the table along with the baby bottle. Rising over his crying daughter, Dean flashed them a smile and unstrapped her from the car seat, ready to plug her little mouth. The moment the rubber nipple hit her tiny lips, her cries quieted, much to the relief of everyone in the coffeehouse.

"Oh, what a sweet little one," murmured Sophia as she found her seat.

Castiel, still standing, loaded his coffee with sugar and milk that he always preferred to add himself. "Dean, this is Sophia. I knew her in the garrison back home."

"Nice to meet you." He nodded over the baby in his arms. "I'm Dean Wi--"

"--Winchester, I know. Everyone back home knows who you are." Her smile seemed sweet enough despite how he searched her for signs of mockery. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm afraid I've been quite isolated since I got stationed here. It does me good to see friendly faces from home."

"Looks like you haven't been too isolated." Slyly, Dean's chin tipped up at her belly.

"Oh," she laughed, leaning back in her chair and rubbing the protrusion. "Yes, I formally married not long before my orders came through. Gadreel is stationed in Israel but we see each other sometimes." Again, she patted her tummy, indicating how often they saw one another.

"Gadreel." Stopping entirely, Castiel gaped at her. "He's free?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "Hannah had him absolved of his crimes finally and we got married as fast as we could."

"I thought he was dead," said Dean, recalling the story Castiel told him.

"He was," she said pointedly, "but he was resurrected. We don't know why or how but I'm so grateful for it."

"The other man with you in the clinic, then, he wasn't your partner," said Castiel.

"Husband. No. He's an appointed guardian while Gadreel's away. There are still those who wish him dead, who cannot forgive. If they knew he's created a fledgling, they could try to hurt us too. So he asked a loyal friend to watch over me."

Castiel squinted. "Marriage is sanctioned among angels now?"

"Oh yes. Hannah pushed for the laws to be changed. She cited her experiences living here on earth as the reasons why we should be allowed to marry if we've been pairing off to procreate anyway. I suspect she knew love after she fell with the rest of us. Now that we're rebuilding society back home, we're trying to cast out the old brainwashed ways. Love, as you both know, breaks all evil ties and I love my husband very much even though others think him a traitor."

"Oh, I get it," Dean commented, nodding. "You're cool hanging out with us because you've got a target on you too."

Sophia shifted in her chair and wrapped her hands around the heat bleeding from her coffee cup. She glanced at Dean with a quick nod as if he'd touched on some unseen but terribly sensitive nerve. Silent, Sophia brought the coffee to her berry-painted lips and took a sip. Her mind swam. Dean didn't need to be a mind-reading angel to see that, but he didn't know which course to take.

"What is it?" Castiel asked gently, taking the lead.

Her innocent brown eyes flickered over his face that time but she hesitated. "Gadreel warned me to be careful in this city. He only recently heard whispers that you're both here too, seeking Dr. Galvan's care. It worries him. If he knows why you're here, then there are others who know as well, which is dangerous for your little family." She looked to Dean then. "He bade me warn you both that you're known among some dangerous people at home, should we run into each other. And so we have. Here we are, enjoying coffee while your precious little one enjoys her yummy bottle." A gentle smile cast down at Erica nestled in the crook of Dean's elbow. "I cannot fathom how this beautiful little girl is considered a crime. Gadreel thought she would be lovely and mighty like both of you and she is."

Over the table, Dean and Castiel communicated a dozen things through just a glance. They had talked many times about being discovered in San Francisco, even before Erica was born. There were contingency plans in place. For the time being, they had agreed to stay and fight as long as they could to give Erica enough time with Dr. Galvan, but there were various escape routes in place if it became necessary.

"Have you been followed at all?" Dean asked her.

"No," she said sternly. "I was trained well before I left to marry."

Another communicative glance passed between Dean and Castiel.

Nodding, Castiel patted her hand. "Would you come to dinner at our home tonight?"

"Oh yes!" Sophie heartily agreed, her face brightening gleefully. "You know how it feels at this stage, Castiel. I can't seem to get enough food into my body."

"I remember." He smiled lovingly toward Erica. "It's worth it though."


	3. Chapter 3

"Wait, hold on. Back up. I thought the doctor said everything about Erica's birth was fine," Sam said through the phone pressed to Dean's ear.

"Yeah, well, looks like we couldn't tell something was wrong with her wing 'til now. Angel wings take a little while to open up, kinda like a flower. One side opened up normally but the other didn't and Dr. Galvan thinks...." Dean's voice trailed off as he sat on the edge of the bed. He glanced down at his half-buttoned shirt. "Anyway, Cas made me come put on a nicer shirt, so I figured I might as well call and keep you posted on Erica. What's wrong with flannel anyway?"

"You're so whipped," chuckled Sam.

"Shut up," Dean groused.

The younger brother turned more serious then. "Need me to come home?"

"No, no. Winchesters never leave a job 'til it's done."

"Yeah, but a much smaller Winchester's in trouble."

"Nah," Dean replied. "Erica's good. Just 'cause she might never fly doesn't mean she's really broken or anything. Lots of people have kids with ... with um ... you know."

"Disabilities."

"Yeah. That." As easily as Dean accepted his baby and intended to bring her up never feeling broken, he still hadn't been able to make himself use the words describing her condition and her future. "Anyway, I gotta go. Cas has people over for dinner tonight and I was only supposed to duck out long enough to change my shirt."

"Who's over there?"

"Gadreel's wife, who's knocked up too."

It sounded like the line went dead for a moment. "...What?"

"Oh yeah. Gadreel's alive and well apparently. Well enough to get a chick pregnant." Sarcasm laced Dean's words, fully aware of how ridiculous their lives were, bordering on soap opera standards at times. "I'll fill you in when you get back."

"Yep, okay. Later."

"Bye."

Dean slipped the phone into his front jeans pocket and finished buttoning his olive green collared shirt before rejoining Castiel and Sophia in the kitchen. She conversed with Castiel from a chair at the dining table, a room that enjoyed a free and open floorplan with the kitchen and living room. Over the expectant mound of her pregnant tummy, she cradled Erica and patted her bottom while they talked. Protective instincts made Dean want to run and snatch his daughter from the relative stranger but he reminded himself to hang back since Castiel obviously knew her well enough to let her hold Erica. He flashed a noncommittal smile as he ducked into the refrigerator for a beer bottle, deciding that he earned it after their rough day.

"Can I get you a drink, Sophia?" he offered.

"Do you have tea? One of my favorite human pleasures has been hot tea but it's all right if you don't have it."

Dean waved her off, already rummaging around Sam's section of cabinets. "Lucky for you, my brother's a health nut who only drinks water and tea. He won't mind if you drink some of his stuff." Now if he could just figure out how to make the tea. He found the box of teabags and turned it over for the instructions.

"Jody called," Castiel said over a boiling pot on the stove.

It caught Dean's attention as he filled a kettle under the tap. "Oh yeah?"

"She's definitely coming for Thanksgiving."

"Uh-huh."

"And she's bringing Alex."

"Oh man," Dean groaned. "Where are we gonna put all these bodies?"

"We'll figure it out," said Castiel with simple confidence.

At that moment, muffled singing emanated from Sophia's coat. She leaned to one side a bit awkwardly with the baby nestled in the other elbow and her own pregnant belly getting in the way. As soon as she glanced at the screen, a radiant smile bloomed over the whole of her face. Dean even imagined her wings glowed from happiness.

"Hello, my love!" she chirped joyously, looking at the phone's camera.

An old familiar voice spoke. "Hello, sweetheart. I tried to FaceTime two hours ago but you never responded. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes. I just didn't hear it. I'm socializing with Castiel and Dean tonight. Look, this is their newborn infant." Sophia angled the phone down enough to show off little Erica, quite content being held there. "Isn't she an attractive child?"

"She is beautiful," Gadreel replied, though his tone turned dark and monotone. "Are you well-protected where you are?"

Dean stepped in then, leaning into the viewfinder behind Sophia with a short wave. "What's up?" That sounded like such an awkward, inadequate greeting after everything he'd seen Gadreel do and everything Gadreel had seen him do. The memory of Kevin's death burned bitterly in his chest, as did the understanding that Metatron had manipulated the situation rather than Gadreel truly being their enemy.

All of the same thoughts played out on Gadreel's face through that small rectangular screen. "It is good to see you again, Dean. I trust my brother Castiel is well."

"Hello, Gadreel." Hearing his name brought Castiel into view for a moment, though the simmering stew seemed to be at a critical moment. He waved with a wooden spoon.

"Why don't you shake a tail feather and mojo yourself over here? Cas is making some kind of concoction for dinner. Kinda weird seeing angels eat if you ask me but I guess both of 'em gotta eat for the little squirts."

"I ... I don't quite grasp your meaning," he deadpanned, clearly not as caught up on human slang as Castiel was, "but I gather you're asking me to teleport for the purpose of sharing your evening meal. I would come if I had leave but Hannah has everything so thoroughly organized now that my kind are back to working tirelessly for humankind, as was intended in the beginning. There is a supervisory system in place. I'm stationed in Israel at the moment doing work for human soldiers in the Palestinian conflicts. I must request permission to take leave."

The corner of Dean's mouth lifted. He was amused by the old angel monotone and literal speech completely lacking slang or humor. "Got it. You gotta ask the big bosses for time off. Sounds like Hannah's running a tight ship upstairs."

"She learned her lesson," said Castiel over his shoulder at the stove. "I'm glad to hear she's steering Heaven back to its true purpose."

"They say she credits you with her new leadership capabilities," Sophia said.

Surprised, Castiel looked back at her with an arched brow. "Me?"

"Yes," agreed Gadreel through the FaceTime call, "but not everyone in Heaven commends you, brother. There are factions who still want to see you brought to justice for, according to them, your many instances of betrayal against angelkind. I trust my wife passed along my warnings."

"I did," she assured.

The hunter in Dean reared up, knowing about the warnings, but hearing it directly from Gadreel seemed to make it all the more real. "What exactly are they planning?"

"I don't know exactly," replied Gadreel. The slightest hint of strain tightened his voice and his eyes averted to one side for a moment of consideration. "I do know the rumors of a nephilim born between you and my brother have reached Heaven. You were seen on the street the day, I assume, the nephilim was born. It's a crime among our kind, you know, and I believe they're using this event to bring you both to arrest."

Castiel, who had been ladling stew into three bowls, rushed over to the phone in Sophia's hand with a wide-eyed predatory fever. "They can't take my child!"

"No, they can't. Canon law dictates that a fledgling of noble birth cannot be removed from the parent angel."

"Well then, there we go," Dean replied with a shrug. "They can't touch Erica. Hold on--noble birth?"

"Castiel is a seraph. They're comparable to dukes and duchesses among humans," whispered Sophia discreetly. "You married well, Dean, if I may say so."

"We're not married," he said.

Gadreel, thinking like a lawyer, butted in and said simply: "You should be married. It might help your cause later. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, of course, but Heaven will catch up with you. Having a nephilim is a great atrocity to most angels, even those who have always backed Castiel in the past. Hannah sanctioned marriage almost two years ago and has been teaching angels about its sacred meaning and they're taking it seriously. Obviously I did." The squared face composed of hard lines softened slightly with a flicker of a smile meant for his heavily pregnant wife. "Being married will make it harder for the angelic authority to separate you. That's my advice."

Head swimming, Dean bent and took the baby from Sophia, who readily handed over the little bundle. He cuddled Erica in his bulky arms. Thinking of some heavenly Department of Family and Children Services busting through the door and taking his child made such a rage swell in his belly that he feared his inability to control himself. He'd never known such a primal urge to protect before and he wondered if all fathers experienced it. Briefly, John Winchester flashed in his mind, but he batted the memory away. Life suddenly became complicated enough without reliving his own daddy issues. Erica's balled hands stretched up from her fleece blanket and her little rosebud mouth opened in a wide, toothless yawn. Pain and love stabbed at his gut simultaneously. He detested the vulnerable sensation as much as he thrived on it. The love he felt for his half-angel child overpowered his senses, forcing him to push it down into a manageable compartment in his soul.

"Dean...."

He looked up from his baby and realized just how much time passed. Sophia maneuvered around the dining table somewhat awkwardly with her round belly and set out three glasses, while Castiel brought steaming bowls of beef stew to the table. He hadn't even realized he'd wandered into the living room alone with Erica until Castiel softly spoke his name.

"Sorry," he said, retracing his steps back to the dining table.

"Let's enjoy dinner. We have time to talk about unpleasant things another time." The lines creasing Castiel's brow meant it wasn't a suggestion but an order.

*****

Long after Sophia kissed both of them goodbye and assured them of her loyalty, Dean took a shower alone to clear his mind. He braced his hands on the tiled wall and let scalding water spill down his back to a swirling pool around the drain. Breathing slowly brought him some peace, though he couldn't shake the foreboding in his gut.

They weren't breaking up his family. That's just all there was to it. Whether they had to keep moving around to hide out or they stood and fought remained to be seen, but the one thing Dean knew for certain was they'd have to kill him before they took his child away. And if they touched a hair on Castiel's head, well, Dean intended to shake the rafters and remind Heaven of just who the Winchesters were and what they could do. There was nothing wrong with Erica. His little girl may have been half-angel, but she was no more of an abomination than a child born to an interracial couple. Erica was his baby. She was a little spark of immortality made against the odds by an angel and a human who lived and died for each other. Nothing about her creation was abominable. He would fight. He would fight with everything in his power.

Dean dried off, dropped his wet towel in the hamper, and stomped off to his bedroom without a stitch of clothes. He stopped just over the threshold, seeing Castiel rush to throw a clean t-shirt over his head as if....

"What's with you?"

A cautious set of blue eyes lifted to Dean and then looked away again. "I was just getting dressed."

"You couldn't get that thing on fast enough when you saw me," he replied in an accusatory tone. "So what gives?"

Castiel's lips pursed and Dean thought he heard the angel growl low in his throat, expressing restrained frustration. A hand curled around the back of his neck and rubbed exactly the way he always did when things got uncomfortable. Though Dean kept watching him, waiting for an explanation, he jammed his legs into clean sweatpants for the night.

"I don't want you to see," Castiel admitted quietly.

"See what?"

Angered, or maybe mortified, Castiel flipped up his shirt and pointed at the soft mounds of flesh where harder cut lines of muscle and strength once gave him a lean shape. A week after going through a cesarean, of course he still had weight around his body, but Dean reminded himself that he wasn't accustomed to human bodies changing over time. Before he got pregnant in the "wrong" body, as he sometimes put it, he often corrected wounds or changes with a flash of grace. So soon after having the nephilim, he still couldn't rely on his powers.

Dean suppressed a smile.

"What's so funny?" demanded Castiel as he dropped his shirt over his bothersome body. "Are you laughing because I'm fat?"

"I'm not laughing." Dean slung an arm around his own naked chest and covered his mouth with his other hand. "Okay, I am laughing. No, Cas. Cas, come back here." He coughed and swallowed to get his bursts of laughter under control.

Reluctant and still mortified, it seemed, Castiel slumped on the edge of their bed.

"I'm not laughing at your body. I'm laughing because this is the most human reaction you've ever had and seeing you so, like, normal surprised me. That's all." Sitting beside Castiel, their hands linked in a knot of threaded fingers. "Erica's only a week old. You're gonna take time to get back into shape. That surgery was no joke, y'know?"

"I know all that," the angel mumbled.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I wasn't counting on things getting so complicated so fast. I thought Heaven was still an unorganized network of angel clans, not a unified host the way we once were. I know who those factions are--the ones Gadreel talked about--and they're not going to stop hunting me down until I'm dragged back home in irons. Looking the way I am now? Like a fat, helpless human? I don't want to give you another reason to leave."

"Leave?" Dean felt his eyes nearly pop out of his skull. "Hell, Cas, I ain't going anywhere. We've got a kid together. Sure, the way she happened was a little fucked up but everything about us has always been a little fucked up. Why would I leave now?"

"Because I'd want you to save yourself if something happens to me, I suppose," replied Castiel barely above a whisper. His eyes met Dean's, filled with insecurity.

Dean recognized the hormones still in Castiel's system, the hormones his doctor had given him to help his body adapt to carrying a fetus. Those drugs, mixed with herbs known only to angels, often turned Castiel far more emotional than he would have been under normal circumstances. Of course, Dean learned his lesson early on not to mention his heightened emotions since it sent him spiraling even more. As the hormones left Castiel's system over the next few weeks, his inner fortitude would return. For the moment, Dean took the cue that he had to be the tough backbone to support both of them.

He leaned in, nuzzling Castiel's neck. "You gave me a child. I didn't think I'd get to be a father and a hunter." His chin rested on the angel's shoulder and he murmured in a purposefully comforting tone. "If you think I don't want you anymore because you gained some weight, you're pretty friggin wrong. You see fat and helplessness. I see the balls it took to go through being knocked up with a Winchester kid. I don't give two shits about what Heaven thinks. You and our kid are stuck with me until I'm dead and planted in the ground."

Hope surged. Castiel didn't say anything but he squeezed Dean's hand until his fingers hurt.

*****

Four days later, Dean and Castiel got the call to bring Erica back to the hospital for an MRI on her malformed wing. They carried their sleeping baby in her car seat through the empty parking garage after midnight when Dr. Galvan had use of the machinery without prying human eyes watching her every move.

A personal need for security made Dean arm himself with an angel blade tucked in his coat and another one tucked in his jeans pocket. Before they'd left the safety of their apartment, he'd found Castiel sitting on the sofa drawing a careful warding symbol on the bottom of Erica's car seat with a black Sharpie marker. It would, he'd promised, block out the other angels from being able to detect her presence. Dean briefly considered warding every piece of furniture and clothing his baby used if it might help disguise her.

Those were the thoughts occupying Dean's mind as he stood in some sort of observation room watching through a glass window as Dr. Galvan fed his baby into a tube the size of a coffin. She used gauze rolls to gently restrain Erica on the table.

"I don't like this," he said quietly, rubbing his mouth.

"No one does," Castiel replied.

They linked hands at the window.

Dr. Galvan gave a hand signal and her usual nurse nodded there in the observation room with Dean and Castiel. She sat on a rolling stool before a bay of complicated machinery connected to a few different computers. The two fathers watched the proceedings in silence as the nurse began the MRI with a few clicks and keystrokes. So far, so good.

"No need to worry, gentlemen. The doctor medicated her bottle formula, you know, so she'll sleep through most of it, if not the whole scan," the nurse explained.

Neither of Erica's fathers replied.

A tense quarter of an hour dragged by as the machines rumbled around such a tiny little girl. Dean noticed images beginning to feed through the computer screen. Interested, but not really understanding what he saw, Dean bent over the nurse's shoulder and watched the black and white images reveal the structure of his baby girl's interior. Delicate white bones extended through legs and arms. A spine connected everything together with an elegant skull shaping her sweet, tiny head. Scores of other tiny bones connected this part to that, creating the fulfilled body of a new little baby.

Then the nurse clicked through several windows just as Castiel leaned over to have a look too. Erica Winchester's MRI scans got reopened in a program Dean had never seen, making him wish Sam was there to make sense of it. He squinted and realized the nurse worked quickly in nothing that resembled English but was, in fact, Enochian. He nearly asked Castiel what it said until the nurse clicked a few filter selections and then accepted her image alteration requests. The MRI scans morphed faster than Dean could blink, blazing forth in bright white-blue glory, illuminating Erica's bones from within. Two more limbs appeared on the images with bones arching over her shoulders, long and far more elegantly shaped than the human images.

"These are her wings," said the nurse with a finger tracing the lines.

"What's with the bright color?" Dean asked.

The nurse continued passing the best image through more filters. "It's the imprint of her grace flowing through her soul. A nephilim's human soul behaves like a blood vessel in a way, allowing the angelic grace to transport through the body. Don't worry. Any humans looking into her records will only see her human body. These images are kept under lock and key."

Dean nodded. While it was interesting, it wasn't the reason for the clandestine MRI. No matter how he pushed and prodded Dr. Galvan's nurse, she claimed diagnosis wasn't her job and they'd have to wait for the doctor to read the scans.

With the scan over, Dean bundled his sleepy, medicated daughter back into her car seat and Castiel tucked a fleece blanket over her. They worked seamlessly, never needing to verbalize what the other needed. It probably helped that they'd been working together for years and easily predicted each other's next movements. When it came to the constant care of a newborn nephilim with probable special needs, Dean liked to think they made it look easy.

Dr. Galvan finally joined them in a silent exam room back in the safety of her own clinic secluded from the rest of the hospital after making them wait almost half an hour. It had to be somewhere close to three in the morning, Dean guessed, and he expected the hospital would come to life soon. She pulled translucent black and white MRI films out of a large folder and stuck them to a light board mounted to the wall. A flush of light brought Erica's interior structure to life, even more bright and realistic than the glimpses Dean and Castiel had seen on the computer screen. He locked a stoic expression on his face but the truthful, dark fear vibrated in his chest.

"I apologize for the long wait," began Dr. Galvan.

"It's okay. Erica's passed out cold." Dean glanced at the car seat.

Castiel took the lead, stepping forward, maybe because he had wings of his own. "What did you find in the MRI?"

Looking at the bright films, a shadow passed over Dr. Galvan. "Unfortunately, my suspicions about Erica were correct." She pointed out various bones and joints as she explained the situation. "Her upper right wing joint looks remarkably different than her left. Do you see that?"

"I do," replied Castiel without flinching.

"Looks like a solid chunk," Dean added.

"Correct, and that's the problem. The bone extending out from her shoulder to the joint also appears more curved than the bone in the corresponding wing." The tip of her pen traced those images. She paused and looked to Dean and Castiel, sincere yet professionally detached. "If I may be honest, I've never seen anything like it. Not among angels, anyway. Very rarely are any fledglings born with the inability to fly due to such severe joint immobility. The only ones are, in fact, some degree of nephilim and even among fledglings of those mixed origins, it's rare."

Hearing about how rare his child's condition was dropped Dean's stomach. "Then what's going on here? What caused it?"

"I spent time going through angel records but soon realized I should go through human records for an answer. There is a congenital condition among human babies that, for unknown reasons, causes a fibrous overgrowth of tissue around forming joints while the child is still in the womb." One of her hands formed a fist while the other clamped down on top of it. "No one knows why it happens but it prevents the joints from moving properly, so the connective tissues never stretch either, and unused muscles go atrophied. It can be two joints. It can be all joints in the body. I thoroughly went over Erica's films and there are minor signs of it in her right hip and her right knee as well. Not nearly as severe, of course, but still present."

Hearing the finality of the news sucked the oxygen out of the room. Dean sank onto the nearest chair, legs wobbly and threatening to give way. "So ... um ... you're saying this condition happened because she's half-human."

"It's certainly not your fault, Mr. Winchester. You wouldn't pass on something to your child like this," Dr. Galvan reassured. "It very likely occurred in previous generations of your genetic ancestry, which is most certainly not your fault and couldn't be predicted either."

"Is Erica suffering?" Castiel asked. His voice came out dry and scratchy as if trying to keep control over his emotions.

"No. Most of the time she isn't suffering at all. Only when her affected limbs are stretched beyond their limited endurance does she feel pain. The quandary there is she'll need therapeutic exercises to maintain her mobility and that will be uncomfortable in the beginning until all three of you grow accustomed to it."

Pausing, the doctor peered at both men and Dean realized how stricken they must have looked by her expression. He cleared his throat, a loud, masculine sound, and straightened on the stool. The little bundle of baby flesh wrapped in a fleece blanket couldn't care for herself, he remembered. It didn't matter how it happened, even though the doctor basically admitted that he caused her condition. His shoulders rolled. The physical repositioning seemed to shake off some of the guilt already eating away at the edges of his soul.

"All right." This was what they had to deal with, Dean added to himself. "What does this mean for Erica learning to crawl, walk, and fly?"

"Well," replied Dr. Galvan with her fingers folded before her waist, "I expect Erica will indeed crawl and walk. We'll have to see how her right leg develops, of course, and keep a close eye on the rest of her primary joints. Children with this condition are remarkably resilient according to my research. They walk, run, and play with far more severe malformations than the current state of her leg. It's hardly obvious looking at it, but I urge you to keep close watch on what causes her discomfort and whether that discomfort worsens over time."

"But," interjected Castiel, "will my daughter fly like the rest of her kind?"

Her eyes flickered to Dean for the briefest second and he knew in an instant. It wasn't time to focus on his own parental wounds.

"I'm afraid, Castiel, your daughter's wing malformation is too severe. I don't see how it's possible for Erica to ever fly. I'm very sorry."

The wind of hope blew out of Castiel's chest in a broken exhale. Dean leaped to his feet and guided the angel to the same stool where he'd been sitting. He crouched before Castiel, holding his hands. For the first time in almost a decade of knowing each other, Dean actually expected Castiel to crumble and weep. Apparently the ability to fly was much more part of an angel's identity than a human's ability to walk.

"It's gonna be okay, babe," Dean said soothingly, rubbing his thigh. "We got this. Erica's gonna have a great life because of us."

"How can she defend herself if she can't use her wings?" Castiel asked hoarsely.

"We'll find another way to teach her," promised Dean.

Slowly, Castiel came down from the flush of panic and sorrow. "Yes. Yes, we can."

Dean held onto Castiel's hands with one of his own as the angel tried to regain his composure and stuck his free hand into his back pocket, grabbing his cell phone. He scrolled through the contacts.

"Sammy? Yeah, it's me. Listen, you gotta come home...."


	4. Chapter 4

"You're just a pretty girl, aren't you? So, so pretty. Yes, you are." Kelly cooed on the sofa in the distance while clasping Erica in her arms. The baby gurgled and gummed her fingers, growing more active after a week of life in their family.

Sam sat on the dining table with his feet planted on the seat of a chair. He'd spent the better part of an hour listening to Dean describe his daughter's condition along with the warnings Gadreel passed along. The younger brother's attention never wavered even if it wasn't his child or his relationship at stake. It reminded some quiet internal part of Dean just how much he depended on his bond with his brother, much altered since they made a pact to always tell the truth. Years of lying to protect the other had stopped abruptly when Castiel got pregnant because, they'd agreed, they were all better as a united front. It wasn't about them anymore. There was a child to bring the family closer together now.

"Maybe getting married is worth thinking about then," Sam offered with a shrug and upturned hands.

"Eh...." Dean grimaced at the image in his mind. "Isn't it a little cliche, two dudes getting married in San Francisco?"

Head tilted as if Dean should have known better, Sam glared impatiently. "It's always two steps forward, one step back with you. Face it. You're somewhere ambiguous on the Kinsey scale. I know Cas isn't technically gendered but you've been a little here and there for most of your adult life. I've seen you look at men through the corner of your eye. And you watch Dr. Sexy and Outlander religiously. I know it's not for the storytelling."

"They're compelling shows!"

"Dean, you have a type! You get flustered about men with mysterious backstories! The doctor guy, the Scottish redheaded guy, and Cas? All the same silent mystery. It's a type. Hell, even your fetish for cowboy movies kinda points to the same thing."

Dean rolled his eyes but his palms broke out in a nervous sweat. "What's your point, Dr. Phil?"

"You're bisexual," Sam replied flatly. "You still see yourself as an anomaly, not really part of the LGBTQA community, but you are really. The B is for bisexual. So you get all squeamish about getting married in a gay city--" he rattled on with air quotes, "--but there's a reason for it. Some cities are more accepting than others. It's safer for you to get married here than in, like say, Kansas, which isn't even legal, by the way. My point is you're committed to Cas and you have a baby together--a baby who might be in danger. If Gadreel advises you to get married, I think you need to do it. Just knock it off with the squeamish stuff because being bisexual isn't a big deal. You are what you are. Don't let your squeamishness talk you out of something that will help you protect your baby and--frankly--it's something you really do want to do."

It all made a little too much sense and Dean hated that. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, at least grateful that Castiel wasn't home to overhear the conversation. Sophia had taken him out to help her choose nursery items for her baby soon to arrive.

"What if Cas doesn't wanna get married?" he asked hesitantly.

Over in the other room, Kelly stood up with the baby. "Oh please!" she groaned dramatically. "That guy loves you like every gross tearjerker movie I've ever seen." As she spoke, she came into the kitchen and presented little Erica wrapped in a white knitted blanket. "Look at this little life you made together and tell me he doesn't love you enough to get married. Forget the jerks in Heaven. Would you still wanna marry him?"

He lowered his eyes to the baby. Erica was getting hungry. He knew her habits already and knew the way she gummed her fingers meant she wanted a bottle. It was family life Dean never thought he deserved, yet Castiel was there giving it to him every day.

"Okay," Dean said finally. "Okay, but don't say anything. I wanna talk to him myself."

"Yay! Can I be a bridesmaid?" hollered Kelly teasingly.

"Oh my God...." Ducking into the refrigerator, Dean thought about crawling inside to escape her wedding talk.

"I'm gonna need a better suit," added Sam.

"And a sweet little dress for Erica," said Kelly. "Any angels trying to break up this family will have to go through all of us! I'm a legacy Woman of Letters. I've had combat training and I can kick some ass in a bridesmaid dress. Maybe even a tiara too."

Dean straightened and pointed a baby bottle her way. "I can get behind that."

*****

Thanksgiving week arrived, bringing with it Jody, Alex, and baby Erica's three week birthday. Dean figited every day since that conversation with Sam and Kelly. He turned it over in his mind from all angles until he was able to wrestle his personal prejudices to the ground. It was important, he decided for himself, to make peace with his ambiguous sexuality, as Sam called it, before he offered marriage to Castiel. Even after the angels left them alone, they were still going to be married with a child who had highly special needs. Dean owed it to all of them to go into the marriage as sturdy in his identity as possible if they were going to have a fighting chance together.

"It's not like it's news to me. I know who I am even if I don't blab my mouth about it and throw glitter at pride parades or whatever it is they do at those things," Dean confided in the baby lying in the plastic bath with painted mermaids around the sides. He rubbed under her neck with a purple washcloth. "Everybody thinks I don't know who I am. I know. I know, you know?"

Erica gurgled and kicked her leg into the warm, sudsy water. Only one leg though, which Dean had been noticing more and more as she approached three-weeks-old.

"So let's talk about this leg of yours," he said conversationally as he set aside the washcloth on the bathroom counter. "Doc said you have some yucky stuff in your knee joint. Your hip joint too. Is that why you're not trying to splash Daddy with it? Lemme see this chubby little drumstick of yours."

He wasn't a doctor, of course, but it didn't take a medical degree to see how far her leg moved. One hand grasped her ankle and the other supported the back of her knee. He watched her knee joint as he straightened her dimpled leg, feeling exactly how small she was in his care. Erica was not as big as other babies her age but she was steadily gaining weight for her size. She reminded him again of his grandmother, the tiny little woman he only knew in pictures, but he liked the tangible link to family he never got to know.

Somewhere around forty-five degrees on the way to straightening her limb, the baby whimpered and began to fuss. Dean stopped, feeling connective tissue go unnaturally tight behind her knee as if the tendons and ligaments weren't long enough to let her fully stretch her leg.

"Hmm," he murmured, lightly drumming his fingers on the counter. "Well, angel-baby, I guess we're gonna learn together. I'm not gonna give up if you're not though, okay?" He touched her hand with the tip of his pinky finger and her soft, dimpled hand grasped him tightly. "There we go. Pinky swear. We're a team." Thinking about it deeper as he resumed washing the baby. "What do you think about all this? Are you gonna be okay with two dads? What about a mom? Don't girls need one of those?" Shaking his head at his own questions, he pursed his lips. "That's dumb, I guess. Plenty of girls turn out fine without moms. Besides, I don't even know how to find mom material for you. They don't exactly hang out in the skeevy bars I did before you were born. And I don't wanna give up your other dad either."

The last sentence echoed off the walls in his mind. He thought things over in silence for a time while he grabbed a fluffy baby towel with a unicorn hood off the wall rack. Seeing her bundled up in the towel rising to a small gold stuffed horn from her forehead brought a smile to his lips. He rubbed her skin dry with the purple towel, still thinking it over.

"You're right. I know," he said as if the baby made an insightful point. "Daddy's your daddy. I'm your dad. You've got Uncle Sammy, Auntie Jodie, and maybe an Auntie Kelly if Sammy doesn't screw it up. More people wanna see you happy and healthy than I ever had when I was a kid." One-handed, he dumped the plastic mermaid bathtub over into the real bathtub. "I know. I gotta grow a pair and try for what I want for us. Daddy loves us and we love Daddy, right? He might say no." He paused, shrugging. "He might say yes. Oh man. If he says yes, then it'll be real and out in the open for everybody to see. I can do it, right?"

Erica cooed, grasping at her unicorn towel.

"Yeah, I think so too. I can do it." Dean opened the bathroom door. "You're pretty good at this, you know. You oughta open an office. Uncle Sammy can doctor up a fake psychology degree and everything."

*****

For California, it was horrendously cold and wet in November, Dean thought as he ducked through the rain across the parking lot. He spotted Sophia's blossoming figure just inside the grocery store, illuminated by harsh white fluorescent lights. He waved to attract her attention as he trotted through the sliding automatic doors decorated like the rest of the store for Thanksgiving week.

"Isn't the rain magical?" asked Sophia through a bright smile. "Hello, Dean."

"Hi," he replied with a glance outside. "Magical? Really?"

"Oh yeah! We don't have rain where I'm from and we don't have Thanksgiving either. I'm so glad you invited Gadreel and me to dinner." She looped her arm around his elbow as he pulled an empty cart from the snaking column. "He's been worried about me being alone here but I can't join him in Israel since there is no doctor over there for my special circumstances. Dr. Galvan is training more, of course, now that we're allowed to have families but you know Gadreel. He's more comfortable with what he already knows than what's new."

"Yeah, he's kind of a traditional guy." Dean steered them toward the crowded produce section and tackled the white potatoes and sweet potatoes first. "Listen, thanks for meeting me today."

"It's no trouble. I'm highly interested in Thanksgiving traditions. Gadreel wants me to learn everything I can. We expect to be stationed here rather than home for many years. It's important to learn local culture."

It amused Dean the way she spoke like a military wife. He glanced around at pinched, stressful faces of holiday shoppers and knew not one of them suspected they were in the company of a real angel. A pregnant angel soon to produce another angel, no less. And no one guessed her husband would appear for Thanksgiving dinner with the power of angelic grace straight from Israel.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about being married to ... to a guy like Gadreel." Dean chose his words carefully and hoped she understood his meaning--being married to an angel.

Sophia glanced up at him quizzically. She blinked. Her face tilted. "You want to marry."

"Yep," he replied as he consulted the grocery list on his phone.

She nodded. "It's a good strategic decision."

As much as that was true, Dean decided to clarify things as he spun a bag of onions and tied off the opening. "That's not the only reason. I mean, it put the idea in my mind but I thought about it a lot the last few weeks. I wanna be married. To Cas. Having a baby puts everything in sharper perspective, I guess, and I know I'm gonna get funny looks and questions behind my back but--"

"--Dean." She patted his arm, silencing him. Her voice dropped to a discreet level, preventing other shoppers from listening to them. "Please remember who you're conversing with here. I married the angel blamed for letting the serpent into Eden. No one was more hated than my beloved for six thousand years. He still has troubles similar to what you humans call post-traumatic stress disorder after imprisonment and torture for that long. Many forgive him now, knowing the truth, but not all. I married a traitor, a criminal, in their eyes. You will be guilty by association once you marry Castiel too because many believe he's a traitor. No one--believe me--no one knows what you're feeling more than I do." She squeezed his hand on the grocery cart handle. "You don't have to explain a thing to me. You love him, so you should marry him. That's the beautiful simplicity of it, just as it is for Gadreel and me."

Dean let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Okay." He nodded, gaining his bearings again. "So then, here's why I called you. I wanna make sure I do it right."

"Oh." Sophie's expression turned sentimental and her voice softened. "You want to propose then. That's so romantic."

Redness burned the edges of Dean's ears and an awkward smile jerked at his mouth.

"Well, I suggest you do it in private. Humans have a rather bizarre interest in public proposals for attention but no angel wants attention because it goes against our invisible nature. Our marriages are private and quiet. Everybody knows when we marry but not everybody talks about it. Do you see the distinction?"

"Fine by me. I'm not a public guy."

"Great."

After collecting all of the vegetables for his stuffing, Dean steered the cart toward the freezers filled with turkeys in gleaming wrappers. He decided to get a ham too since they were expecting a gathering of eight people counting the baby. "How do I do this so everything's legal upstairs and downstairs? I'm not taking any chances if the upstairs narks are trying to take my daughter away from me." He looked over a fifteen pound turkey as he spoke but decided it felt a little light for the supposed weight printed on the label.

"Hmm. The banns will have to be read," replied Sophia.

"The banns?"

She struggled to bend over the freezer with such a protruding abdomen but she tried to assist in the search for a turkey anyway. "Yeah, Castiel is a seraph. Seraphim are noble, remember? Hannah's marriage policies specifically say that noble marriages have to be formally announced before the unions take place. She copied the policy from human aristocratic practices."

"Doesn't that defeat our purpose? We're trying to get married before upstairs folks show up down here."

"That's why you bluff. Isn't that a poker term? Make your proposal and don't worry about Castiel's homeland. When he accepts, you can choose a representative to go and ready the banns. This will be your most vulnerable moment, before you're actually married and after they know you're doing it. You must hurry once you send your representative." Sophia peered at Dean from around the bulk of a turkey dangling from her hand. "Marry quickly before they have time to react. Do it secretly. They'll believe you're following tradition but if you time it well, you'll already be married when the banns are read. Then it can't be undone. As Gadreel told you, the case will only be stronger if you're married should the authorities try to intervene."

Taking it all in, Dean nodded slowly as he took the turkey Sophia selected. He dropped it in the cart with a substantial thud. "You think they'll try to stop us from getting married then."

"Oh definitely. They know it'll be harder to remove Erica if you do."

"Well," he said, shrugging, "doing it quick in secret sure takes the pressure off throwing a big obnoxious wedding."

"There will be plenty of time for parties after you win complete parental rights over little Erica," said Sophia in a practical tone. "Just make sure you have everything in place and ready to go once you send your representative to read the banns."

"Would Gadreel take the job?"

"Proudly so."

"Good." One detail ticked off the list in Dean's mind, more firm than ever in his decision even if a significant battle lay ahead. They were going to be a united front with baby Erica at the center of everything--the life he never had as a child. "Hey Soph, one more thing."

"Name it," she said.

"Teach me to say some stuff in Enochian."

Her sideways smile turned up to him, knowing and incredulous. "Such as?"

"You know, like how to ask Cas to marry me. How to say I ... you know ... love him." Dean cleared his throat. "I mean, we're doing it now to protect our daughter but he's gotta know that's not the bigger reason. He's not gonna say yes if I don't say what I ... uh ... you know ... feel. Which I do. Feel. For him. I figure if I make an effort to learn about his ... what's the word ... culture? Then he'll have to know I'm serious."

"You're really afraid he'll turn you down, aren't you?"

Dean shrugged. "We've done some bad stuff to each other in the past."

"But you've forgiven each other, or you wouldn't be here now with a beautiful little baby and a home together." She smiled. "Don't worry so much. He won't turn you down. I think wanting to learn some Enochian is a beautiful gesture though. I'll teach you the traditional proposal and you can decide whether you want to use it or not."

"Thanks," Dean said, nodding.

"Everything will be beautiful. I'll help you. Gadreel will too. Think of this decision as the beginning of a life you're designing for yourselves."

*****

Loaded down with enough grocery bags to feed an army, Dean mounted the stairs to his apartment with Sophia huffing behind him. He refused to let her carry any significant weight in her condition but she insisted on being useful, so he gave her the two lightest bags. Meanwhile, the fifteen pound turkey among other things threatened to pull his shoulder out of his socket.

"Hey yo! Little help here?" he blurted as he threw open the door.

Sam and Kelly materialized immediately, relieving Dean of his Thanksgiving feast, with Alex on their heels. The teenage girl Jody unofficially adopted looked a lot better since they last saw her even though she smacked gum too loudly and hardly said a word.

"Thanks, guys," said Dean absently. "Hold on, don't forget Soph."

"I got it." Alex popped a bubble inside her mouth as she took the bags. She yelled over her shoulder toward the interior of the apartment: "Ma! Cas! They're back!"

So she was calling Jody by motherly words those days. It was a good sign.

"Dean, where's the pie?" asked Kelly at the kitchen counter.

"You're kidding, right? This family doesn't eat store bought pies on special occasions. It's Erica's first Thanksgiving. Hell no we're not eating a pie some stranger made. I'm making three different flavors tomorrow with the other prep work. On Thursday afternoon, they'll all be out on the table here," he explained, spreading his hands like framing up a picture. "Three pretty maids in a row. Turkey and ham down front. Sides on the counter. We're doing everything buffet style except the meat and dessert."

"Dean's got a thing about pie," Sam explained as he filled the refrigerator. "It's best to just nod and go with it."

Kelly made a show of a robotic, hypnotized nod.

Shadows caught Dean's eye along with voices in the hall. Jody emerged from the nursery with Erica bundled in her arms and Castiel talking about the baby's latest milestone. Gnawing on her own toes was as wonderful to Castiel as if she'd learned to do astonishing Impressionist art.

"This baby is ridiculously well-behaved," Jody declared, joining the crowd.

"Yeah, she doesn't get good behavior from any of us," said Dean.

"Maybe being a good girl is Erica's way of rebelling in the Winchester clan," Kelly suggested with a careless shrug. "She's a rebel in her own way."

"Maybe she'll be a doctor or a lawyer then," added Jody.

Sam's head lifted then. "I was supposed to be a lawyer."

"You wild rebel, you." Kelly's wink flirted with him, as did her hand swatting his rear.

Dean drifted while everyone talked over each other. He passed Jody with a smile and a kiss for Erica, who dozed through the loud, bustling family in that little apartment.

He came to Castiel, a bit removed from the noise and leaning a shoulder on the arched entrance to the hallway. They exchanged quiet smiles. Castiel still carried extra baby weight and it would probably be a few more months before he got into shape again, but Dr. Galvan said he could begin working out in three more weeks. It didn't matter. Neither did the fact that they hadn't had sex since Erica was born in order to let Castiel's incision heal. That was how Dean knew he was in it for the rest of his existence on Earth and in Heaven. His sex life dwindled to nothing, replaced by chubby Castiel (which he found cute, honestly), poopy diapers, mounds of bottles to wash, laundry to fold ... yet he was happy. He was fulfilled in ways he never thought he deserved, and if he let himself think about it too much, the sting of threatening tears pricked his eyes.

Castiel stood there in jeans and one of Dean's t-shirts--The Beatles, which no one else was allowed to breathe on let alone wear. He had no idea, did he? Dean had marriage on his mind and it wasn't frightening or repulsive anymore. He wrestled his prejudices to the ground after all. He wanted to do it right there but the spontaneous wasn't going to work for them. As much as they wanted a life together, part of the reasons required them to keep clear heads.

"You've got a secret," Castiel said effortlessly, brows furrowed.

"No, I don't!" laughed Dean a little too loud. "C'mere, kiss me. You doing okay?"

A smile put Castiel's expression right again and he headed right into Dean's waiting embrace. Hands framed his angel's face. Their lips met amid contented smiles. Dean kissed him openly in front of everyone, not that many noticed in the chaos of family at the holidays. Swaying, he looped his arms around Castiel's waist after the lengthy kiss, noses brushing against each other.

"So I like Sophia after all," Dean murmured.

"I thought you would if you gave her a chance," murmured Castiel in return.

"We're gonna have a good Thanksgiving," Dean decided.


	5. Chapter 5

On Thanksgiving morning, Dean took a quick break between putting the turkey in the oven and making his special Coca-Cola ham glaze to go to the bathroom. Working in the kitchen gave him a single-minded focus he didn't know he needed so bad. Cooking cleared his mind. And in the two minutes it took for him to go to the bathroom and wash his hands, Gadreel appeared in his living room, squeezing and kissing his angel wife.

As soon as Dean caught the hard line of Gadreel's profile, however, images of Kevin's death wrestled their way to the surface. Then came a flood of rage that stopped him on the edge of the living room with his fists clenching and letting go. He fought it. Redirecting his rage to the appropriate place - Metatron - took effort but his fists slowly relaxed before anyone saw him. Kevin should have been there with them. So should a lot of other people. Part of him began to understand why Sam hated holidays for so long, because it only reminded people of everyone who died unfairly over the years.

Even so, as Dean looked around the apartment, he watched his family starting to piece together the wreckage again. Castiel, Jody, and Sam had gathered around the living room coffee table playing a card game. Alex and Kelly had baby Erica while they sat cross-legged by the sliding glass doors in mysterious female conversation.

And Gadreel hadn't even taken off his coat yet because he was so absorbed in being with Sophia again. She laughed softly and he drew his thumb over the swell of her cheek. The love was as real as it was between Dean and Castiel. He softened toward Gadreel then, not that he consciously hated that angel, but seeing him in person again reminded him of dark moments in his life that he no longer wanted.

Dean rolled the tension out of his shoulders and strolled into the living room. "Hey, Gadreel," he greeted with a nod.

"Dean. Good to see you again." An equal nod returned his greeting.

Feeling Sam's eyes on him from the couch, Dean let himself relax back to the jovial holiday mood he'd been feeling all morning until then. "So you gonna eat with us or is Thanksgiving food too rich for an angel?"

"I intend to eat." The flicker of a smile made a glaring show of the new sense of emotion creeping into the robotic angel.

"Awesome. Get in here and lend a hand then," replied Dean.

Gadreel nodded but kissed his wife again - a sure sign of still being newlyweds in practice if not in time. He followed Dean into the apartment's kitchen, which seemed smaller and smaller the more the holiday progressed. Missing the bunker's kitchen was a dangerous thing. They couldn't go back until matters between Heaven and the new little family with the nephilim child were settled. Two rather large men bumping into each other in a cramped apartment kitchen had to do.

The ham waited in a large rectangular pan on the counter. Dean produced a two-liter bottle of Coca-Cola from the refrigerator but then decided it might be too complicated for an inexperienced angel in the kitchen. He changed plans, instead dragging out a sack of potatoes. It went on another bit of counter space close to the garbage can.

"Ever peeled potatoes?"

"No," replied Gadreel.

"Well, you're gonna learn today. Come on." Dean hooked an arm in a gesture for Gadreel to come closer. He grabbed a metal peeler from the drawer by the sink and demonstrated the peeling process. "It's quick shaving motions like this. The whole skin has to come off."

"How many skinned potatoes do you require?"

"The whole bag," Dean replied.

He nodded, taking the peeler in one hand and a new potato in the other. There wasn't much skill in it but Gadreel still managed to go about it with jerky motions full of hesitation. It took time for a rhythm to set in but by the fourth potato - while Dean soaked the ham in his Coke and brown sugar mixture - he'd established a good pace. Of course he took on his assignment with the single-minded determination of any angel accustomed to accepting orders. Gadreel hadn't recovered from the injustices done to him. Maybe he never would. Hell, Dean saw a lot of soldiers over the years unable to overcome post-traumatic stress. But Gadreel stood a better chance being bonded to a wife and child.

Soon Dean would have a husband and child to tether him to home and hearth if everything went as he hoped. He swallowed back an upsurgence of nervous acid in his belly just thinking of the possibility that Castiel might refuse his proposal. Just how he was going to carry off the proposal remained to be seen but echoes of Sophia teaching him Enochian phrases bounced around his skull. Ghosts of moments to come, if such a thing was even possible.

"Gadreel?"

The slicing paused for a moment. "Yes?"

"How bad is it? What Cas and I did?"

There came a sigh - a rather human sound - and Gadreel didn't speak for a long time. "There's a reason why there are no more nephilim, except the occasional incident like your offspring."

"Which is?"

"Two or three thousand years ago, God ordered the slaying of all nephilim due to unregulated relations with humanity and various other problems. They were murdered. Eradicated. Throughout history, some angels have ignored God's law concerning relations with humans, especially after God abandoned the throne. Gabriel and Balthazar each had about a dozen offspring over the generations, as did others. Most of the nephilim were hunted and slaughtered. Some escaped and still live today."

"Cas found one by accident a couple of years ago," commented Dean in a strange monotone. It took such a concentrated effort not to imagine his own nephilim child being hunted and murdered that he had no strength left to put color in his voice.

Gadreel skimmed over Dean's discomfort and he was grateful for it. "My kind responds best to the limitations of Heaven's law. Free will is still nonexistent to the majority of us. Those who understand it are the ones embracing the new marriage laws, while those who don't grasp free will still grasp the law and generally don't harass us."

"Okay...." Dean digested the information as he crouched before the oven and basted his turkey.

"The only way to stop all of angel kind from hunting nephilim like your offspring is to set a precedence."

Nodding, though they worked on opposite counters, Dean could work with anything as long as there was some tiny loophole to start. "Sounds like Sammy's law training will come in handy."

"It will. Sam certainly knows how to assist you in winning custody of your nephilim, thereby setting a precedent, which will open the door for overturning the anti-nephilim laws altogether. It will be very helpful that Castiel is a member of the nobility. Not the high nobility, of course. They're archangels - or were before they were all killed - but he is nobility nonetheless. Slaying the nephilim of a noble on such public terms would be bad for the new authority's image in Heaven."

The slightest hint of confidence improved Dean's sloping posture. He pulled down a few mixing bowls from the overhead cupboards to start on mixing ingredients for various pies. Cooking and making battle plans, so to speak, let him work through the problem better. In the living room, Erica cooed and gurgled over the buzz of multiple conversations as she was passed around like a prized treasure.

Thanksgiving dinner came to pass without trouble, save for Dean's burned hand when he touched a pan straight out of the oven. Castiel wrapped it in gauze with a string of apologies because he couldn't heal anyone as long as he was feeding Erica from his grace. Dean only chuckled and said a burned hand in the kitchen was the most normal wound he'd ever gotten. Part of him hoped it left a little mark to remind him later of the one Thanksgiving when everyone gathered together to have a nice day free of hunting, research, and monsters. It didn't hinder his ability to hold Erica while he ate either.

November bled into December, bringing with it the strangest kind of snow Dean had ever seen - wet and heavy but melting before it hit the ground. It was strange to miss the real fluffy snow back home even though he spent hours shoveling the path out from the bunker garage. It didn't look like San Francisco was a snowy place, at least not where they lived closer to the bay. Still, he stared through the sliding glass door early in the mornings, coffee in hand, hoping for snow to make it feel more like home.

Another doctor visit came and went for Erica with precious few answers provided about her condition. Dr. Galvan ran into trouble with the question of physical therapy since there were no specialists like that for angels and they couldn't risk letting another human in on the secret. They thought it over for a few days and Castiel decided he could manage her therapy with enough reading material to teach him the exercises. He said he'd even put himself through school and become a real physical therapist if that was what it took. Both the doctor and Sam thought that wouldn't be necessary, while Dean observed quietly, thinking just how lucky he was to have a partner in life built on a foundation of strength and courage.

But he still hadn't proposed. He was being a giant baby and he knew it. Everything was in place where Gadreel was concerned with going up to Heaven and reading the banns once they were actually ready to take their vows. It all had to be timed just right. All Castiel had to do was say yes.

The night it happened came about by accident. December 7. Sam had taken a double shift bartending down by the wharf. Dean took the opportunity to go pick out a Christmas tree since his brother wasn't huge on holidays anyway. Then Castiel wanted to come along. And when Kelly heard them getting the baby ready for an outing in the cold, suddenly she had to join them too.

"Okay," said Dean, huddling the bundled baby close to his body, "spread out. Nothing too tall or too fat. You know how klutzy Sammy is with the furniture and stuff. The jolly green giant will destroy a tree."

Laughing, Kelly nodded and disappeared into the rows and rows of trees stacked in the Christmas tree lot. Castiel lingered close, tugging Erica's soft ivory hat lower over her head, which made the bunny ears pop more upright from the dome of her skull. He gave Dean the sort of smile that suggested quiet satisfaction.

"What's with you?" Dean asked, a smile threatening on his own mouth.

"It's our child's first Christmas," he replied. A little hitch in his voice suggested emotion.

"You getting sappy on me?"

Castiel glanced up from the baby. "What does the fluid transporting xylem cells in plants have to do with our child's first Christmas?" His eyes narrowed beneath his knitted hat just like the old days. It sent Dean spiraling back in time.

Grinning, Dean bent forward to kiss Castiel over the baby bundled between them. The angel still looked bewildered and the hunter decided to let him stay that way, not that he'd admit how adorable he found it. Having a child turned him into a softie and, to tell the truth, the changes happened so rapidly in him that he still needed time to process it. Just having the time to adjust and enjoy his newfound family seemed like a luxury he couldn't afford yet. No sooner than he got the family did he have to make plans to fight for its survival. So he decided to enjoy the moment and the bewildered look on Castiel's face.

"Hey!"

Both of them jumped a bit, startled by Kelly's barking voice cutting through their intimate moment ... in a Christmas tree lot. Yeah, that wasn't the greatest idea.

"Ugh, the goo-goo eyes are making me sick." She rolled her eyes, though laughingly, and pointed a long arm toward the back of the lot. "Come on. One of you help me heft this tree to the car. I found one already. It just kind of jumped out at me. You wanna keep making out in front of the baby or are you going to help me tie the tree to the roof of the car?"

Dean flashed a self-conscious grin at Castiel, shrugged, and passed wriggling Erica into his waiting arms. "Duty calls."

By the time the three of them got the tree back to their apartment and set it up while taking turns looking after the baby, it was well past eleven. Dean still hadn't grown accustomed to keeping normal human hours after a lifetime of hunting at night for the most part. While Erica slept in her bassinette, they hung lights, gold beads, and ornaments of every shape and color. It wounded Dean to think his mother hadn't lived long enough to really teach him and his brother family traditions like everybody else. Their decorations consisted of shiny new things fresh out of plastic packages they'd just picked up on the way home. No history, no tradition. They were in uncharted territory.

When they were finished, Kelly flicked off the living room and kitchen lights. It plunged them into darkness all except the golden white twinkling that reflected off the sliding glass doors. Everyone on the street several floors below could see their Christmas tree with the bright white illuminated star on top. They were just like a normal family for the first time. Suddenly Dean wished he'd waited for Sam to get off work but his obvious distaste for holidays might not fall away with one pretty tree. They had to give it time where Sam was concerned with holidays and Dean made sure Kelly understood that aspect of his brother's personality. She understood it better when Dean explained more about their mother and, of course, the way Jess died. It made Kelly introspective, more interested in the bond she could build deeper with Sam, and she decided to wait for him to get off work from the comfort of their room.

"That was a kind thing you did," said Castiel as he tucked a knitted blanket over Erica where she slept in her bassinette.

"Hm?" Dean passed a hand through his short hair in the absent sort of gesture that showed his discomfort with praise. "I was just trying to keep her from pestering Sammy about getting into the holiday spirit and all that crap. You know how he gets. He'll clam up and sabotage everything if he gets pushed too hard."

Together they flopped onto the couch and assumed an automatic position of tangled arms and legs. "Still, you're not only looking out for your brother but her too."

"I'm turning into a softie," Dean grumbled.

"Infants have that effect on humans," countered Castiel.

Dean mumbled something neither of them made out as intelligible. With a quiet sort of knowing smile, Castiel settled in the curve of his arm as he flipped channels. They settled on a cheesy holiday movie, mainly because Dean knew Castiel liked that kind of thing. Their warmth and the security of their heaviness leaning together on the couch soon lulled Dean into a sense of sleepy peace.

Twinkling white lights reflected off surfaces in the darkened room and he tried to make sense of the homey feeling. True, he was armed like always but he was more relaxed than he'd been in months - maybe years - in spite of Heaven being after them. But when wasn't Heaven after them?

"Let's get married," murmured Dean, taking himself by surprise.

"What?"

He swallowed hard. What the hell did he just do? That wasn't how he planned it at all, yet there he was, painted into a corner by his own hand. Being lulled into that warm cocoon offered by building a home strung up in Christmas lights and evergreen let his mouth spill out his easiest wish. He never anticipated doing it that way no matter how he'd considered the different possibilities. As Castiel peeled back from his shoulder and leaned up, peering at him through those annoyingly trusting blue eyes, blue as Dean had ever seen, he knew he couldn't back out of it.

"Well, I didn't...." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and sat upright. It didn't seem like a conversation to have while slouching like a bum. "I said let's get married. I've been thinking about it for a while but I didn't mean to say it now like this or whatever."

"Is this because of what Gadreel said about fighting to keep Erica?"

Swallowing hard again, Dean felt his throat go dry and his palms go damp. It sounded like Castiel was going to reject him. "No, not exactly. I mean...." Shit. It wasn't going right.

"Would you marry me if Heaven wasn't threatening our child?"

"Yeah." Dean said it without the least bit of hesitation. "Look, Cas, I didn't mean to mumble it here on the couch but it doesn't change the facts. I do wanna get married. No, I wasn't sure when you were pregnant. We were never on this road back then but Erica made me go through all the crap in my head. I love you. You love me. We love Erica. So let's get married."

Castiel blinked and then he blinked again. He opened his mouth a fraction as if he meant to speak. Then he closed it again and his eyes narrowed in deep consideration rather than anger.

Still, he didn't say yes yet. Dean's nerves wound tight.


	6. Chapter 6

Four days dragged by without Castiel offering even a hint of his answer to Dean's impromptu marriage proposal. There was nothing so awkward as living with, sleeping beside, and sharing baby duties with someone who avoided answering the most important question of their lives together. He considered himself mature enough not to pester Castiel about it, especially because they were parents of a child with special needs, but he was starting to get impatient. Impatient and humiliated. But he sure as hell wasn't going to try again. Yes or no - that was the only time he was ever going to ask.

"What's with you?" Sam asked, sprawled on the couch with a football game turned up too loud on television.

Dean glanced up from the floor where he sat cross-legged and surrounded by boxes and scattered wrapping paper. "Nothin'. What's with you?"

"You're wadding up all that wrapping paper and throwing it every time you screw up like it's got a vendetta against you." Brows creeping higher on his forehead, Sam looked more worried than amused.

"Oh," Dean muttered, seeing his mess for the first time.

"You haven't heard bad news from the angel lawyer squad, have you?"

"No, no, that's not it."

At least Sam waited an obligatory second for Dean to speak on his own. When he didn't, the younger brother began needling him. "Okay. Umm. Are you worried about becoming a Russian citizen under the reign of Trump and Rootin' Tootin' Putin?"

Dean chuckled under his breath. "No. I'm not scared of a talking Cheeto or his Russian bear."

"Is the baby sick?"

"No."

"Fighting with Cas?"

A subtle shrug lifted Dean's shoulders. "Not exactly." He looked up again at his brother and he just knew he wasn't going to get away with avoiding the subject even if he squirmed with discomfort. "I proposed to Cas."

"Oh."

"He hasn't said yes or no yet."

"Yikes."

"Right."

"Well," Sam said after a moment's contemplation, "there's no doubt you two are supposed to be together or Erica wouldn't have happened. I'd just give him some time. Marriage is kind of a foreign concept to angels."

"Marriage is a foreign concept to hunters too," offered Dean glumly.

"True. But it's not unheard of."

Silence filled the room for a while, all except the football game blaring on television and Dean occasionally wadding up discarded wrapping paper. He studied the pile of half-wrapped baby toys and clothes destined to go under the Christmas tree in the coming days. Part of him tried to resent that tree, the first in the Winchester family in more years than he could remember, but he just couldn't hate it. There was hope in the twinkling lights and the shining colored glass ornaments - hope for a future family beyond hunting and monsters. He wanted to hate himself too but the piece of his soul that belonged to Castiel refused to let him feel that self-hatred anymore.

The afternoon moved by in a fog as Dean managed to tape box after box for the first Winchester Christmas morning. Two weeks away, it felt impossibly far, especially knowing baby Erica might not have married parents after all. Every time Dean put her in a bath or performed her physical therapy the way Dr. Galvan instructed, he worried. She deserved a stable family if she was going to grow up struggling to learn how to walk and if she was never going to fly. The little girl needed Castiel as much as she needed Dean. She needed them on the same team if she was going to have a chance at succeeding in life, walking the tightrope between angelkind and humankind. Erica deserved a strong family backbone with men like Donald Trump and Mike Pence in the world trying to rob men like Dean and Castiel of their rights to love and marriage. The truth was Dean wasn't going to make it without Castiel either. His vulnerability, that tender spot in his inner being frightened him as much as it made him desire a whole life with one other being at his side.

Still, he didn't ask again. He gave no hint of even thinking about it anymore, although it engulfed him like a fireball from hell. For Castiel's part, the only change Dean observed in him was a slightly quieter demeanor as if he retreated deeper into himself the way he did in the old days. It took so long to get him to open up to Dean and vice versa. Regret cut deep as Dean watched their bond retreat into dark corners once again.

Ten days before Christmas, Dean and Castiel couldn't avoid each other any longer. Cold rain spat in erratic bursts over San Francisco as they carried baby Erica to another appointment at Dr. Galvan's office. She fussed under the blanket draped over her car seat as if she sensed the tension between her parents. Castiel had only just been medically cleared to carry the baby and her car seat after enduring the cesarean-section but Dean still marched down the street with his child like it was his duty to carry her. It never occurred to him that Castiel might have missed resuming normal life until he noticed the angel cutting hard glances at him as they entered the medical building.

"What?" Dean finally asked.

Castiel shrugged. "I could have carried Erica."

"I just did it. I wasn't thinking," replied Dean.

"I'm not delicate," hissed the angel.

"I never said you were."

"But you don't even look at me anymore. I'm still overweight. I'm out of shape."

That day it was Dean who squinted and cocked his head. "Those hormones still in your system?"

"Perhaps," Castiel muttered, pressing the elevator button and ducking his head deeper into the collar of his coat. "I'm preoccupied."

"It's okay, you know." With a deep breath, Dean mustered a softer look in the eye. "I mean being preoccupied. People get stuck thinking about stuff all the time."

Jesus, he was rambling. He stopped short and cleared his throat behind a closed fist. They made their way to a back corner of the sparsely populated waiting room. Coats and scarves came off while Castiel dug through the diaper bag for a bottle to pacify their cranky fledgling. Once he checked in with the familiar nurse, Helena, who had been one of the angels to oversee Castiel's unusual gestation period trapped in a body ill-equipped for it, Dean flopped into the chair beside angel and fledgling bonding over formula and Enochian murmurings.

"Is she okay?" asked Dean, uncertain of what else to talk about other than their child.

"She has a temperature," Castiel replied without looking up from her face.

That made Dean pop upright in his chair. "What?"

"It's all right. Don't worry. Fevers happen in fledglings who are half-human while the grace and the soul are working to blend into one entity."

Of course Dean remembered that fact after he'd panicked and looked like an idiot. Those fevers were discussed when Erica was born. It calmed him as he thought back to her birth on Halloween night, however, and he reached over to touch her feathery soft hair just emerging from the edge of her knit cap. She was only six-weeks-old and yet it seemed like only days. Dean still questioned himself - more often of late, in fact - wondering if he could measure up to being her father when Castiel had the cosmic bond he could never begin to fathom. Sure, he'd given her a soul but Castiel had given her celestial power. She was special beyond measure and it amounted to breaking Heaven's law. Above all, Gadreel and Sophia insisted little baby Erica was part of Heaven's aristocracy like her angelic father.

A low sigh seeped from Dean's lips while he watched Erica drink her bottle. "Cas, are we gonna talk?" His own voice surprised him in the soft tone, almost defeat.

"Yes," replied Castiel with a shallow nod.

A nurse in mint green scrubs appeared with a clipboard. "Erica Winchester?"

Finally, Castiel allowed his blue eyes to meet Dean's as they gathered up their belongings to follow the nurse. "Tonight," he said.

It sounded final. Which final, Dean couldn't guess.

By the time they had Erica settled on an examination table ready for Dr. Galvan, Dean allowed himself to go comfortably numb. He didn't enjoy feeling like a raw, exposed nerve and it was going to turn into the kind of anger that led to blind benders in seedy bars if he wasn't careful. Cutting back on drinking was something he'd promised his unborn child before she was ever born, having decided to avoid repeating his father's mistakes. He had to stay focused. Whatever happened between him and Castiel couldn't matter as much as their ability to give their fledgling a fighting chance at happiness in the universe. The taste for Johnny Walker burned in his throat but he swallowed it away. He had to be stronger than his father had been.

Wearing her usual misplaced long skirt under her lab coat, Dr. Galvan swept into the exam room quite oblivious to the growing strife between her patient's fathers.

"Good morning," she said without acknowledging them further. She washed her hands in a stainless steel sink while she talked. "I'm running behind today. A patient had complications overnight. How is little Erica?"

"She has a fever," Dean and Castiel said in almost perfect unison. They glanced at each other.

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing serious." The angel doctor grabbed a corded thermometer from its wall mounting and folded Erica's good arm over the sensor. Soon it beeped. "It's 101.4, which is a little high for a nephilim, yes. They run higher than human infants but there is a bit of a heightened temperature. Let's have a listen to her core."

While Castiel bristled under the annoyance of his child being called the dreaded n-word, Dean remained quiet and observant as the doctor unbuttoned Erica's onesie. She pressed a stethoscope to her tiny chest for close to a minute. Dean had learned in Erica's many checkups that her "core" meant the sack around her heart that apparently housed her melding grace with her human soul. It always sounded a dozen times more dramatic in angel-speak than the real anatomy, which he'd consulted with Sam about for a bit more of an impartial opinion. They surmised that while her heart pumped blood through her human body, the core pumped grace and soul through her celestial body as well. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch Erica, to let her know that her daddy was there, but she didn't seem to need him. She clutched the stethoscope like it was one of her colorful toys at home.

"Yes, it's what I thought," Dr. Galvan finally announced.

"Her grace?" Castiel said knowingly.

"Indeed," she replied.

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Dean.

"It should subside within 48 hours. If it doesn't, give her baby Tylenol. The fever is there for a reason, so let it do its job for the moment." The fever didn't seem to bother Dr. Galvan at all. She made a note of it in Erica's chart but she was already chattering on about the next point on her agenda. "Today I would like to discuss surgery."

"What kind of surgery?" Just the word made Dean's palms sweat.

Silently, Castiel slid his fingers through Dean's and he peered down at the gesture like it completely mystified him. The angel's thumb quietly rubbed the hunter's knuckles. They each diverted their attention to the doctor, both strengthened by the other.

"I've been doing research about human children born with Erica's congenital anomaly and the truth is we need to do as much as we can before she stops growing."

"She'll be growing for eighteen years or more," said Dean in disbelief.

"And it may require all eighteen years to treat her condition," Dr. Galvan said in her clinical way as she measured the range of motion in Erica's major joints. I'm unhappy with the state of her right leg, you see. It's tighter here in the knee than when she was born, which tells me the overgrowth of fibrous tissue in and around the joints is probably hiding elsewhere. We may indeed see more joints grow stiff in time. So far it's affecting her hip, her knee, now her ankle, and of course her wing. I'm uncertain about operating on her wing - such a procedure hasn't been done before - but a number of children with this condition have undergone procedures to strengthen their hips and release the knee joints for better mobility."

"But she's only six-weeks-old," Dean said breathlessly, rushed, and struggling to contain his fear.

"Infant bones are softer, Mr. Winchester. They're not fully formed yet. Correcting a problem at a young age will give us a better chance at Erica walking unaided."

Castiel squeezed Dean's hand hard. "Are you saying she might not walk?"

"She will but at this stage, it's clear her condition is worsening. At this rate, walking will only be comfortable for short periods. Without surgical intervention, she will likely be dependent upon a walker or - at least part of the time - a wheelchair."

Confidence deflated from Castiel. God almighty, Dean felt him sag even if he hadn't fluttered an eyelash. They stared at each other and swept aside their troubles, which seemed petty and pointless in that moment. Silent questions and answers - perfect communication - passed between angel and hunter without saying a word aloud. Dean peered over Castiel's shoulder at the wriggling baby with a stiffened right leg on the examination table. So those were the cards their family was dealt.

"I don't want her cut open yet," Dean said.

Castiel nodded in seamless agreement.

"I propose ten- or twelve-weeks-old for an ankle procedure to correct the slight clubfoot happening here," said Dr. Galvan. "Then I propose six months to a year for the knee joint release. At that point, we'll be in a better position to judge about her hip and her wing."

A deep breath filled both men in unison. They always seemed to mirror each other in stressful moments. Of course, those stressful moments used to be about hunting demons and monsters. Now they were fighting against the clock for their child's best chance at walking. Walking! It was the most simple thing in the world, and yet, the human half of Erica inherited from Dean was damaged. Guilt swarmed in his belly like wasps.

"We'll need to talk it over with our family first," decided Dean for both of them.

"Of course," replied Dr. Galvan. "I need a week in advance to schedule surgery. You have a little time to weigh your options then."

The drive home was so still and quiet that Dean and Castiel heard every move their fledgling made in the backseat. Both of them were lost in thought, no doubt debating the same questions and the same sense of responsibility for Erica's condition.

"Can you heal her?" Dean asked quietly.

From the passenger seat, Castiel shook his head. "Nephilim body chemistry is different, for one thing. It's resistant to outside angelic intervention, which is what made them so dangerous in ancient human history and it's why we're forbidden from mating with humans now. For another thing, performing angel powers on one so young without a matured grace of her own could damage her growth as an angel." He paused as if the words tasted bitter in his mouth. "I couldn't heal my daughter at a genetic level no matter how desperately I want to."

It was unnerving to hear Castiel use the word nephilim and maybe he intended to have that kind of hard, final impact. Dean turned onto Market Street and swore under his breath, immediately regretting the traffic he slid their car into without thinking.

"So you're saying she has to have the surgeries," he continued.

"Our other choice is intensive physical therapy and that might not help."

"How do you know?"

"Statistical research," Castiel replied smoothly. "Human children with this condition are most effectively helped with a combination of surgery, physical therapy, and later, occupational therapy. Dr. Galvan isn't wrong when she says we're fighting time. Whatever we do, we have to accomplish the most in the first three years of Erica's life while her skeletal structure is malleable and unfinished in its formation."

"I wanna talk about it with Sammy too."

"I know."

Dean glanced over at Castiel. "Does that bug you?"

"Not at all."

"What is this going to mean for the angel squad upstairs?"

A lengthy silence followed. Castiel turned toward his window and traced the rain bands on the glass with his eyes. He let out a faint sigh and then he said, "Supposing they allow us to keep our fledgling? When they learn of Erica's condition, they will deem her damaged and she will likely be destroyed because it's considered the kind thing to do - destroy an injured or damaged angel humanely before enemies have a chance to exploit such a weakness."

"Fuck," Dean spat, glowering at the street ahead. "That's not gonna fuckin' happen."

"No, it won't," replied Castiel, his eyes brightening with the light of his grace. "I'll kill anyone who tries to harm my fledgling."

"So will I," growled Dean.

"Then Erica is a very blessed little girl," the angel said.

Since the baby fell asleep on the way home, Dean took her straight to the nursery when they arrived in hopes that she would remain asleep. He was exhausted after putting himself through so much mental anguish over the botched proposal, but finally surrendering to whatever outcome came felt like pulling the plug in a bathtub. All of his strength drained away and the only thing he craved was sleep. Escape. Silence. He counted it as a small blessing that Erica didn't wake as he lifted her from the car seat to her rosewood crib. As soon as he was sure she wouldn't cry, he curled up in the padded glider, put his feet up on the ottoman, and tugged a quilt over his body. Sleep overtook him before he had a chance to think over the question of surgery more.

"Hey."

Something tapped Dean's leg but he swatted it away.

"Quit hitting me, dickhead. Get up."

Dean groaned and attempted rolling over in the glider chair. "Just wanted ten minutes," he mumbled, pulling the quilt over his head.

"Dude, it's been four hours."

"What?" Squinting under sudden lamp light, Dean popped out from his quilted cocoon and found his brother standing at his feet. He groaned again and rubbed his eyes. "Where's the baby?"

"Kelly's got her. Cas has her on bottle and bath duty," Sam replied.

"Huh? Why not him?" Annoyed, Dean stretched and rose to his feet.

"That's why I'm in here dragging your dumb ass out of your coma." An overtly slow and obvious tone pointed to both Sam's annoyance and his opinion that Dean's brain was the slowest living thing before feeding it caffeine. "Cas told me to tell you that you gotta meet him on the roof. He's up there waiting for you now."

"The roof? It's like ten degrees out there."

Even so, Dean obeyed. He made a pit stop in the bathroom and swished minty mouthwash along with running a quick hand through his porcupine hair. Something was up if Castiel asked him to go to the only place in the apartment building where they enjoyed privacy. The last time they went up there was to talk about names for their as yet unborn fledgling. His stomach lurched when he noticed the cloudy dark sky through, remembering that Castiel promised they'd talk about their situation that night. At least the wait would be over, one way or another.

Dean took the elevator to the top floor after making sure Kelly had a handle on watching the baby. From there, he took the seldom used emergency stairwell past cracks in the walls hinting at past earthquakes to a heavy metal door that opened onto the flat top roof of their building. A cloudy night sky opened overhead, reflecting the city lights of San Francisco in a faint orange haze. Beyond, the bay in the distance glittered with lights shining from ships and cargo barges making their way up and down the west coast. Fog hadn't rolled in that night but he knew the bay would be all but obscured in the early dark hours before sunrise. From that vantage, people could see most of the city, although there were many taller buildings to the south.

"Cas?"

It was eerily quiet up there and rather lonely at night. Dean followed the path they usually took to the northwest corner of the building.

There. A six-foot dark silhouette stood like a column looking out over the city lights. Castiel almost passed for a human man standing there in jeans and a black winter coat tailored to his shape and fell to his calves. His hands rested in his pockets, making him appear casual, yet every fiber of his inner being remained on alert for approaching threats. Dean knew that about Castiel as sure as he knew the angel sensed him coming before he even emerged outside there on the roof.

"Cas," said Dean quietly as he approached from behind.

A sense of calm smoothed lines in Castiel's face as he turned and looked at Dean over his shoulder. He took stock with one sweep of his eyes. "You always come outside under-dressed." He unwound a knitted navy blue scarf from around his neck, saying nothing, and looped it twice around Dean's neck.

"Now you'll be cold," said Dean.

"My coat is wool."

The awkward questions pin-pricked Dean's thoughts in the quiet that followed, deflating some of the hope and surrender he'd allowed himself before his nap. While Castiel stared over the twinkling city skyline of San Francisco, he gave a freezing naked hand to Dean and tugged him closer. They stood that way for quite some time, linked by hands and divided by unanswered questions until Dean openly stared at Castiel's profile in his effort to move things along. It was colder than he wanted to admit. Rain threatened to start up again too and he jammed his free hand into his jeans pocket for a bit of warmth. The scarf smelled like Castiel. Closing his eyes, he let himself inhale that warmth too.

"I was going to decline." Castiel beginning to speak after such a long silence startled Dean. "Your proposal. I was going to decline at first."

Dean's throat began to close. "Why?"

"I'm immortal, or as close as anyone can be to it. You're not."

"I don't get it, Cas."

The angel sighed in a rather human way and looked down at their knotted fingers. "Imagine living for decades with someone. They get older and older. They get sicker. You watch their fragile human body decline and break down in old age, yet there's nothing you can do to stop it because it's simply the natural course of the universe. Life and death. And then one day, that person with whom you've built a life dies. It's all over just like that." His free hand snapped fingers. "For me, your lifetime is a flicker of a second in my time."

A dozen protests clogged Dean's throat but he found himself unable to speak.

Castiel's eyes lifted to his, allowing all of the apprehension and sorrow to show through them. "I cannot watch you die while I continue to live as I am now."

"Cas, I--"

"--But then," he interrupted, "I thought deeper on the question. What if I declined? What if I left rather than endure the pain of your loss?"

Dean didn't say anything. It didn't seem like his turn to speak yet.

"Refusing your proposal not only means having to leave you but it will most certainly mean losing our fledgling. That cannot happen. Of course I considered the practical implications of binding my life to yours because the practicalities must be considered in the end. Being bound by marriage will strengthen our position should Heaven decide to attempt removing Erica from our custody. Heaven's new marriage laws are going to be helpful in our cause."

"Don't marry me just for that," Dean nearly growled.

"That's just it," said Castiel. "I couldn't accept or decline for those reasons alone."

"Then what?"

"It came down to two questions. Do I love you? And could I ever be happy or fulfilled without you, without this family?"

Brows furrowed together quite low on Dean's forehead. It was in his nature to expect the worst outcome. Wasn't it always that way? His mother was killed, his father essentially abandoned him to hunt the demon that killed her, and even his brother split as soon as he was old enough to go to college. Expecting things to be different now that he had a child was exactly what opened him up to utter heartbreak that he'd never speak of if he had his choice.

Cold fingers slid along his jaw. He'd averted his gaze to the bay but Castiel brought him back with his freezing touch. The wind picked up around them on the roof.

"I can never be happy or fulfilled without you and our fledgling," Castiel said in slow, measured words as if he knew Dean's brain wouldn't accept what he was saying right away. "Walking away from your life is as painful to me as tearing out my own grace. I would rather have your lifetime together than eternity in Heaven."

"What are you saying?" Dean whispered.

"I'm saying yes," Castiel whispered back, their foreheads pressed together.

"God," blurted Dean in a sputtering burst of relief and tears springing from his eyes. Before Castiel could see such an embarrassing reaction, Dean grabbed his face and pulled him in for a hard, searing kiss. "Say yes again," he murmured against Castiel's mouth, needing the reassurance more than ever as it finally sank in.

"Yes, yes, yes," Castiel chanted in a slow rhythm through a smile swiftly covered by another possessive kiss.

Together Dean and Castiel promised to bind their lives come good or bad. Their arms wrapped around each other there on the roof of the apartment building inhabited by their family and the child they'd created. Years of fighting for goodness and humanity bound them before that night if they were honest with themselves, yet they both found something irreplaceable in making that promise in a very public way. Maybe people huddled in the cold walking streets below could see the newly engaged couple utterly wrapped up in each other's kiss. Maybe they couldn't. It didn't matter to them. Dean and Castiel were on the same road together with their child and that sense of stability felt as foreign to the orphaned hunter as it did addictive. He never wanted to let go of that inner sensation, that rock of home and peace living between him and Castiel. Above all, their child would never know the wretchedness of a broken home.


End file.
